Random Kisses
by TLN
Summary: A series of one-shots I felt like starting yesterday, after a discussion on FF spoiler thread and in relation with a recent tweet by SN... I'll update each time there will be random kisses to be given! Now COMPLETE!
1. Comfort Kiss

**Random Kisses  
**  
**Hey gals! Sooo, while discussing that possibility on my fav' Bones boards, I remembered a fiction I liked where BB would kiss for no reason and I thought I could develop it into the actual theme of a fiction. Hence the title. So, that'll be a series of one shots, where when kisses will be necessary, kisses there will be. Nothing more, nothing less. Because they are noooot in a relationship, they're just "partners", yeah, sure. Anyways, if they like to think so, why not?  
Disclaimer: Not mine, although I study it, AH! Some tiny things here and there from episodes you will recognize too!**

* * *

They were sitting on Booth's couch, he had invited her for the evening, on his Grandfather's advice. He had no idea why he was so adamant to see him "do what he had to do" with Bones, but Hank Booth surely had set his mind on the idea, and he would not let go. Maybe because he had seen that he was desperately in love. Or maybe because he had seen something else... Could it be that he and Bones had talked? No. Booth pushed aside this possibility when he heard Bones commenting upon one of the childhood pictures he had decided to show her.

- "Parker's skeletal structure resembles yours greatly. There is a high probability for him to develop the same facial features when adult. He has the same zygomatic and mandible definition than you do. A prominent zygomatic for example, symbolizes masculinity in the Caucasian structure."

- "So my kid is going to be as handsome as his dad, right?"

She smiled, thinking that indeed, his son would probably share the becoming appearance of his father. While watching him, she wondered why he was doing this, showing her these pictures. In the five years they had spent working together, he had never opened the door to his past as widely as he was now. Why? Was it because of Hank? Did Booth know she had talked with him about his childhood? Would he be mad at her for it? No. If he was, he would not have asked her to share memories with him. And she was glad he did.

- "Your son is going to be very handsome, yes. At least, following occidental standards. For instance, Asians favor..."

Surprised that he was not listening -not that he would always listen when she let herself get carried away by lengthy anthropological explanations- she looked up at him to see he was focused on another picture. A picture he did not seem to have planned to see then, not with her. When he saw her watching him, he smiled weakly.

- "I'm sorry Bones, you were saying?"

- "Who is on that picture? It's your father?"

It was. One of the rare pictures he had kept. It was his father holding proudly what happened to be a trout, his older son by his side, smiling genuinely. It looked like a happy memory. A typical Sunday spent fishing, father and son. Or was it really?

- "Yes. That's him."

Booth's tone let show that maybe that memory was not that happy. Overwhelmed by his sudden sadness, Bones felt useless, inadequate. She never was the type to let things pass, she had to do something. But what? Ask him what it was about?She felt it would be out of place. She did not know why, but she could feel she should not ask. It was probably the first time she knew when to stop talking. When to prevent further discomfort. So instead she did what Angela had taught her, years before. She placed her hand on his forearm, giving him the most reassuring smile she could. Would it work? It had in the past. Yet she feared it would not be enough this time. He smiled back, took her hand in his and kissed it.

- "I'm okay Bones. No worries. I was just surprised to see that here."

She nodded. Slowly she took the photo album from him and put it on the coffee table. She wanted to hug him but seeing their position on the couch, she feared it would be awkward. Yet it was too late. He was watching her, wondering what she was about to do. She had never taken initiatives of any sorts and that one puzzled him. Once more, he wondered if Hank had said anything. Now he was not so positive he had not. He could see in her eyes that she knew more than he'd like her to. When she decided what she would do she felt that the thrill of apprehension had replaced inadequacy. She would be there for him, in the way she considered the most appropriate at that moment. Maybe she would regret it later, but she was certain that he needed something she could give him. Was that love? She had no idea, she refused to analyze the matter as such. It is just that, there was nothing she would not do for him. So she leaned towards him and she placed her lips upon his. It was a matter of seconds, but she felt his smile return against her own. She had done the right thing. Yes, she was afraid to look into his eyes now, but she did not regret it. Not yet.

- "What was it for?"

His tone was playful again. His sadness was gone. Why had she done that? Maybe to make things simpler. To remind him that the past was the past, and that she was there now. There with him, there for him. That was enough, even if he hoped for more.

- "I think you needed it. It's like a guy hug, except... not really a guy hug."

- "What, you mean it's like a guy kiss? Because I'm not really into that kind of things."

He loved to make her smile. It reminded him that no matter how pathetic life could get, there was something to look forward to. Hope and patience. In the midst of death, treason, murders, dysfunctions, fear, there was still hope. This is what he had always believed. What his grandfather had taught him. And what had made him the man he was. Then it felt like he had become the man he was only to make her happy. That was his purpose in life, he was sure.

- "Well, I am not a man, so you don't have to fear for your masculinity. But you can consider it like an extension of the guy hug. A display of affection and comfort. If you're alright with the concept, of course. Otherwise we can..."

- "No it's okay. I like that concept."

They smiled. It reminded her that before him she had forgotten how to smile. She had trapped herself in an idea of the past like he had. She had built herself through it, for it, forever the perfect little daughter of the suburban science teacher who would make him proud some day. Somehow, although the possibility was highly doubtful, she felt Booth had made her an adult. This is how she felt with him, grown up. She was able to be the one providing comfort and hope. Even with something as improbable and immature as giving random kisses. But she liked that concept, too.

**To be continued...**


	2. Celebration Kiss

**Wow, thank you for the response, the story alerts and the kind reviews!! I got to say I am rather inspired as I spent the last hours working on a College project analysis on _Bones_! I keep saying "I know, tough work" :p but in fact this is quite a job to do! Well, the "watching _Bones_ episodes" part is quite cool, gotta say lol. Anywayyyys! Let's get on with that thing !  
Disclaimer: Not mine. (I am actually watching DtitPH, which has nothing to do with the story but I had to say it mmh)**

She had not done that in years. Well, with the exception of that time in the trailer... Nope, she had really not celebrated Christmas since... no, she wouldn't remember that now. She was feeling happy, too happy for it. A little tipsy too, probably due to that French wine Hodgins had decided to bring to accompany her perfectly cooked turkey. Yeah, she was proud of that one. She knew she was a perfectly adept cook, but for the first time, she had felt pressure at the idea of ruining the meal she had spent hours preparing. It felt like family. And she would not disappoint. She had not. Everyone was jolly, clinging glasses, singing, talking, smiling, even laughing out loud. No murder, no fear, no rotted remains. Only family.  
Why had she done that? She would not admit, but she had for him. Seeing him laughing to her father's jokes, she did not even attempt to suppress a smile of satisfaction. She could not understand why but, when he had told her that once more, he would be forced to spend Christmas alone, his son sent hundreds of miles away from him, she felt sad. Simple Socratic response, she felt sad because he felt sad, so making him happy would make her happy too. So she decided they would all have Christmas together.

He knew she had done that for him and he was more thankful than he had ever been before. Of course, it would have been better if Parker had been there, but he was not and he had to accept that fact. He was spending a nice Christmas with his mother and her boyfriend, period. _He,_ was having a nice Christmas too. Bones had cooked a great dinner, Hodgins' wine, however sissy, was really good and Max's jokes were not all that bad. Plus she was there, smiling in a way he was getting used to, that smile she never gives to anyone else. Pride filled his heart, he had been the architect of all this, indirectly of course but, he had made her happy to be... happy. If that made any sense. Yeah, that wine might have been sissier than beer but it certainly was stronger.

When she took some dishes to the kitchen, he offered to help her. He wanted to tell her how thankful he was. But he was having a hard time finding the right word. Damn wine! All he was able to think about was close to a love declaration. He felt more confident when they were alone though, leaning closer and closer as they moved toward the sink. He risked the charm smile, although he had not meant to flirt at first. Difficult not to, seeing how provocatively dressed she was! What's with her wearing all those cleavagy things anyways? It's getting better and bett... Worse and worse. Yeah, Booth was more than tipsy. That certainly explains why he did not think twice before kissing his favorite -and only- partner in the whole world.  
She did not question it, she just smiled against his lips, kissing back. God bless Hodgins and his imported nectar! It did not last long, nor transform into an out of control display of mutual attraction. But when it stopped, neither of them wanted to let go, so they remained close, their faces a few inches from each other, their eyes still shut.

- "What was that for?"

- "That was to thank you, for this evening. And I guess, some sort of way to wish you Merry Christmas."

- "Can I... wish you merry Christmas too?"

- "Sure."

The lack for spontaneity of that second kiss made Bones apprehensive, so she opened her eyes, hesitant. Booth opened his in response, and fortunately still free of his inhibition, he decided to close the gap between them himself, just in case she would have second thoughts, you know...

A second kiss she felt was better than the first, probably because she was actually kissing him and not trying to remember what it was like to have kissed him. No matter how irrational and illogical that was. She felt like she could be kissing him forever. But he ended it, damn. Rapidly, she found a way to renew the experience, rather proud of herself.

- "Hey, that wasn't me wishing you merry Christmas. That was you again."

- "If we keep on celebrating the Holidays in the kitchen by ourselves, I'm afraid someone is going to come up and ask for explanations. Or if it's Angela, for details and for a camera."

She smiled. He had a point. But she wanted to kiss him again.

- "But I want to kiss you again..."

Damn! Too late to promise not to ever drink again. She did not even feel sorry. She probably would when sober. But she did not bother questioning that fact. She did want to kiss him and she was fixed upon getting what she wanted. Her confession made him smile, and she was reassured, but he was drunk too. So how would that be in the morning? What would they say to each other?

- "What was your concept about, by the way? The whole 'guy kiss except not a guy kiss' thing? Weren't we supposed to use it in case of distress or whatever?"

Oh shit... Lucky, she was a fast thinker, even when most of her brain did not respond.

- "Well, you were the one starting the kissing tonight! We can also use it to celebrate, right? It wouldn't be wrong, would it?"

True. He had started it. He should never have. Oh, obviously he did not regret it as a whole, it is just that he was that close from forgetting the room full of people waiting for them, and technically even closer to her bedroom. Damn metric system, damn wine, damn France! Okay, they had nothing to do with it, but they invented that wine and they invented French kissing, right? So damn.

- "Hey guys, you need help here?"

Angela. Suddenly, Bones felt her cheeks turn red, hoping her friend had not noticed anything. They were much too close for her not to see. Plus, it was _Angela_. She most certainly sniffed they were doing things in the kitchen. Booth tried to erase the image that formed in his head of Angela as a hound dog sniffing tracks to catch preys. Well, they were her preys.

- "We were just... doing some dishes, preparing for the dessert."

She raised an eyebrow. Sure,_ doing _dishes for the _dessert_. They were lucky Hodgins had brought that wine. She loved it and as usual, she had had too much of it. That sort of made her too tipsy to launch an investigation of any kind. Not that she did not make a mental note close to "Try and grill Bren about all that, first thing tomorrow morning", but she did not have the energy to do it then.

- "Okay."

And she left. That was like telling her friends that there was nothing wrong with what they were doing. At least, this is how they took it. It is much easier to draw conclusions like this when objectivity is on vacations. Plus, they were certain she would not object if they were to explain to her the benefits of their "concept". Right?

One thing bothered Bones though; she stilled wanted to kiss Booth. Taking plates from a cupboard and handing them to him, she leaned forward and quickly put her lips upon his, almost afraid he could step back. Then giving him a triumphant smile:

- "Merry Christmas"

Random kisses. Yeah, that really was a kick-ass concept.

**To be continued...  
**


	3. Wakeup Kiss

**  
Once again, thank you for the reviews, and for the story alerts! As much as I love reviews, I always like the idea that someone liked my story enough to want and read the next chapter! Generally, I do the same when I really enjoyed reading, so thank you for that!! Here is the third kiss, that one does not necessarily take place during one of the upcoming episodes. That's more of a randomly given random kiss, if that means anything! I wrote yesterday while in the train, indeed considering the fact that this story could be taken in loads of different direction, as one of you guys wisely indicated ;). So, on with the story!  
Disclaimer: not mine, though I liked "Baby got back" before they used it on the show and actually used it in a Bones fic years ago, NA!**

  
They often worked past 11pm during a case, except when evidence was pointing directly towards the right suspect, which let's face it, was rather rare. So they had these late nights of work. Generally, Cam and Ange would play "Rock, paper, scissors" to decide who would babysit Brennan while she was doing her "bones thing". Cam always wondered how Ange managed to win 90% of the time. Maybe she had learned tricks with Grayson.. Oh boy, better not ask her about that. She preferred staying at the Jeffersonian until dawn rather than ever trying to mention Ange's ex husband again. Amazing in bed though. Rhaaa, no memories, no!

When she walked past the platform and did not find Brennan, she headed towards the office. Quietly enjoying the calm in which the place was plunged after everyone left. Sometimes she felt the weight of her responsibilities becoming too heavy, the tons of documents to sign, the tons of demands and requests, complaints and comments. But not then, not with the peaceful atmosphere reigning in the lab, when it was just her and her little reconstituted family. She was actually in search for Brennan because Hodgins had made an apparently major discovery. At least, that is what he had told her, in the usual over-excited manner he had to tease everyone about the might and wonder of his realm of dirt and insects. Super!  
Suddenly, she stopped. There was more might and wonder in what she was witnessing than if Hodgins had told her he had discovered that Big Foot was in reality the result of a failed military operation in Tibet. Well, if not might, at least there was enough wonderment for her to let her jaw drop uncontrollably. Brennan was kneeling in front of her couch, gently soothing Booth's tie, who was asleep. All appearances pointed towards an innocent attempt of the scientist to wake her partner, but what Cam was focused on was that little flame in Brennan's eyes. Yep, definitely looked like love!

She wondered why she felt happy for them. Happy for Booth. After all, he had been her... Her what, really? Lover? Boyfriend? Friend with benefits? She chose the latter, it had never really been more than that. Maybe that explained why she was happy to see in Brennan's eyes the little flame she had never accepted to let burn in her own eyes, as far as Seeley Booth was concerned. Why not? Because her past experiences in that matter probably made her more cautious, or less hopeful. Reviewing the qualities of her ex, she admitted though, that if she had been able to, she would have kept him, for his gentleness, his old-fashioned, sometimes out-dated values. His romanticism and his sense of responsibility. Yeah, he was Mr reliable. That was definitely not something one encountered every day. Plus he was he real fireball in bed, major point. Boy... What was with her tonight to think only about sex with guys in love with other women? Weird. Especially knowing she slept with both guys mentioned. Anyways... Yeah, Booth was an amazing guy, that's also why she was happy for him, because he deserved more. And if an awkward, sometimes immaturely selfish scientist was more, she was okay with it. She really came to like Brennan, in fact. When she understood that her constant feminist bashing was a mask not so different from her own, she saw what Booth was trying to do with her... He was trying to save her. Save her from herself. That was so much like Seeley, right? Always saving damsels in distress.

Oh wow... It seemed like Booth had succeeded in transforming Miss rationality into some kind teenage girl with a bad crush on the school's quarterback. As cliche as it might be. Well, Booth had been a quarterback, right? She was kissing him, as simple as that. She was playing sleeping beauty except that the sleeping beauty was a quarterback and that... yeah, stop with the crappy metaphors. Too late for that. Brennan was just kissing Booth. Like that, as if it was no big deal. Hey! If she did it as if it was no big deal, maybe it meant that... Were they together? Cam fought the urge to call Angela immediately. Not to gossip, no, no. Just to... investigate. Call it a professional flaw, or whatever that might be. If they had been together, everyone would have known, right? Everyone knew everything in there. Not only because of the dozens of security cameras Cam was forced to install to prevent Hodgins and Angela from doing it in every corner of the building, but also because... Well, yeah, it was mainly for Hodgins and Angela. So now it would be for Brennan and Booth? Wow, wow, wow. Recovering some of her senses, Cam remembered that if she stayed there too long, she might either get caught, or attract other people who would witness something that maybe, they were not supposed to witness any more than she. So she decided to leave, as frustrating it might be. She would know in time, she always found out. Plus Booth would tell her. Yeah, she would know very soon.

His surprise was genuine when he felt he was being kissed. Why was he fearing it might be a dog, like in all those bad comedies where the guy fantasizes on a superb blond and wakes up to find his dog licking his face as though trying to eat it. He didn't even have a dog. Plus he was at the Jeffersonian and... It really felt like a kiss-kiss. As in, mouth and lips touching lips and mouth. You know? God, it couldn't be Hodgins right? He instinctively reached to his gun while opening his eyes, ready to shoot whoever was invading his private space, dog or entomologist. Then he saw Bones. Wow. She had just kissed him? That was a wake-up kiss, right? She was still bent over him, her hand on his heart. How symbolic, boy... Well, if it was more symbolic she would have her hand on... Yeah, stop. It was frustrating enough to be waken-up by a kiss given by the woman he loved knowing it was just a random kiss, to add the fact that when he usually fantasized about that kind of kiss and that woman, it ended way below the spot where her hand rested then.

- "Hey, sorry. I was tired and, well... I had nothing to do so..."

- "It's okay. I was feeling like having coffee, what do you think? We could go to the dinner, or... If you're more comfortable with..."

- "No, sure. The dinner."

That was tensed. No, worse, awkward. She feared to have embarrassed him. Not that she was any good at identifying discomfort when she saw it, but it was clearly painted all over his face. Maybe she had pushed the concept a little too far... Embarrassed herself, she got back up, soon imitated by Booth, and in her usual straightforwardness, she just said:

- "Booth I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you. It's just that... You looked so peaceful, I found it would be an appropriate way to wake you without disrupting that peace."

He smiled. She thought he was embarrassed, how cute. He was not. He was just surprised, and terribly frustrated. As great, sometimes exhilarating her whole "guy kiss but not really" concept was, it was getting tougher and tougher for him to ignore the lingering pain in his lower stomach each time he wondered what it would be like to transform that whole guy kiss thing into a guy love-making thing. As weird it sounded out of context.

- "Well, thanks for that Bones, I'm feeling... really peaceful."

Peace ending below his "Cocky" belt-buckle. God, he had forgotten how amazing it was to be waken up by a woman's kiss. More than that, by Bones' kisses. Not that he had any prior experience in that matter, all fantasy aside, but it made him feel... weird. Yeah, another euphemism for "frustrated". But then again, what could he do? Ravish her on that couch? Better not look at the actual couch, no, no, no. Ghaaa, that was going to be a long night.

- "Anytime."

She had really enjoyed it, as frustrated as she felt. She had done it by pure sympathy and concern for his well being. Well, partly. A bit... She thought. Yes. Yes? Obviously, she had enjoyed the physical proximity, she had enjoyed the intimacy of the gesture and how natural it actually felt. It was odd, that it felt so natural, no? Well, that was the concept, after all. They were close enough to be alright with tiny displays of affection. That was the appropriate definition, right? Indeed, she had also appreciated to study his muscular definition, he was such a well-defined specimen. Sometimes she wished she could touch him, just like that... The deltoid, the pectoralis major, the biceps brachii, all the names corresponding to what Angela would describe as "the hottie's natural armor". She had to recognize that this colloquialism, as approximate as it was, corresponded to her partner. He was rather stunning naked. No. No, no, no. There was no point in going there. No matter how agreeable she knew sexual intercourse would be with Booth, she also knew he was not willing to satisfy her curiosity just for the sake of it. And if... No. No. Damn, that was certainly going to be a very long night.

**To be Continueeeed!  
Obviously, they could not just kiss and have no kinky thoughts. It had to pop, if I daresay. I won't let them satisfy their instincts though. I am sort of sadistic. Not as much as HH though, so no worries, random kisses will get heated and, complicated with time.**


	4. Jealousy Kiss

**Well, more readers, more satisfaction and more expectations, I suppose!! I have spent the afternoon watching _Bones_, among other things, on a purely recreational basis, I have to add. And I came to wonder how Bones would act once they are a couple. I thought she might be very demanding sexually, and sometimes ask Booth for a quickie in the middle of their investigations. I have to say my imagination drew heavily on the last episode of _Desperate Housewives_, when Susan keeps harassing Mike for sex. Anyways!! This fiction being about KISSES, I cannot transform Bones into a new Theda Bara. Not that she was that much into sexual behavior but she was a precursor in the whole "vamp" thing. Okay, I'm digressing now!  
Disclaimer: None mine, although I do put a copyright on the whole Bones/quickie theme because if they do write something like that in the future, you'll know I invented it first! NA!**

She had once confessed to Booth that, as irrational as it seemed, she had experienced jealousy on several occasions. She was far from being proud of it, but after all, who could find pride in such a ridiculously immature feeling? What bothered her though, was that in spite of her attempts at controlling it, she always failed miserably. Especially towards her partner. She knew that territoriality was a common reaction destined to preserve a species from extinction. Whether literal territoriality or metaphorical, as remote the concept might be to her. How could one be territorial with another human being who was nothing stable enough to consider as property? So how was it that so often she considered Booth as her property?

She reflected on the question when she saw that the witness they were questioning was visibly displaying signs of attraction to the F.B.I agent. How could she not find him attractive? Following occidental norms and criteria he was quite the perfect catch. Well, that was what Angela said. For Bones, he was the archetypal alpha-male, physically apt and dependable, a perfect breeder. After all, wasn't it the reason why she had chosen him as the biological contributor to her project of reproduction? Yes, there was that of course. But that little voice in her head, easily identifiable as Angela's... again, kept repeating that maybe, she had chosen him because she was trying to assert her control over him. Leave her mark. Make him hers. No, that was stupid. After all, Rebecca had done the same and it had not prevented Booth from being... well, not hers. That did not make any sense. None of it. Yet Bones felt jealous. Right then, watching her partner flirting in an obvious manner. Almost provoking her. Was he trying to provoke her?

She shot him a death glare. It seemed he instantly understood as she could see in his eyes that he felt suddenly uncomfortable. Good. He deserved it after all, for betraying her like that while they were working. Not that she had never gone out with suspects, or that she had never flirted outrageously with witnesses or... overnight guys in Oregon, or whatever. Damn. Jealousy was soon replaced with guilt, and remorse. She had no right to be jealous. After all, she had left no mark on him, neither literal or metaphorical. He was a single, attractive man and he had the right to engage in intimate and sexual relationships with other women. But why was it so painful to picture that? Why the only word that came to her mind when she pictured it was "unfair". Was it really unfair that he would not touch her? Ever? Well, he did touch her. He often was tender with her, reassuring, almost loving. He hugged her and kissed her occasionally. Although she conceded that the only occasion during which he took the initiative to kiss her was Christmas, and then he was nothing short of drunk. The other times, she had been the one kissing him and... if he had never refused the kisses, he had not returned them and he had often felt awkward afterward.

The only plausible conclusion she could make then, was that he did not want her. That would explain why he had never made any moves of any kind over the years. Why he had never felt the need to satisfy his biological urges with her. He knew he had to do it, he was a man. Not a saint. No matter how hard he fought to be one. So who did he satisfy his urges with? A bitch like that fake blond? She cursed herself for being jealous again. But objectively, this blond was really vulgar. But then again, maybe that was his type. Tessa and Rebecca kind of corresponded to the criteria. She cursed herself again, to judge the mother of Booth's child. She did not care much for Tessa though, she had never really understood what he had liked in her. She looked like a veal. An ugly one, at that. Wow, what was wrong with her? She had never been that judgmental before. She was not objective, she was jealous. But what could she do about it?

- "Bones, you okay?"

He seemed concerned. She had not said a word since they had started questioning the witness. And she had her brows furrowed, as if in intense reflection. He saw she did not appreciate his flirting with the witness, but he could not help it. It was not even that he was attracted to that woman. It is just that, it was something that he did. He always turned on the charm when he knew it could provide him with information or help him solve a case faster. More than that, he had always felt the need to charm people, he knew he was attractive, good looking and that it had an effect on women. Being the good old alpha-man he was, he could not deny the fact that it reassured him in his masculinity. But Bones disliked it. And he did not want to displease her. So he stopped. Somehow hopeful that her apparent jealousy would translate in some sort of interest in him. Something more than her convenient -and pleasing- random kisses. He knew it was her way to deal, her way to tell him that maybe, there would be more. But he also knew that if he played her game completely, she might consider that sex, could replace those kisses and then, they would become what he had always feared they would become if they followed Bones' conception of things: friends with benefits. Obviously, he did not want that to happen.

This is why he had never really taken the initiative when it came to her concept of "guy kiss but not really". It was a torture. Nothing less. If only he could tell her that each kiss she gave him drove him crazy, that he wanted her so much that sometimes it was getting painful. How would she react? On the other hand, the kisses were great, and he had come to like them. But if he let himself kiss her for some reason, one of the reasons listed as "acceptable" within the limits of the concept – a list that had lengthened considerably since the first time- he knew perfectly well that it would not be a sweet, cute kiss. Nope, he would need to take her in his arms, hold her tighter and tighter until he would feel her breasts against his chest and slide his hands underneath her t-shirt and... Oh God, that was definitely a torture.

- "Well, _are_ you, Booth?"

She raised an eyebrow, he was making that weird face again. As though he was trying to fight something mentally. Or maybe he was just mad at her for ruining a possible night of sex with that bitchy blond. She wished she could read people, as usual.

- "Yeah, I'm... I'm fine."

The blond looked at them. Was there something going on? Was the F.B.I hottie having a thing with the weirdo scientist? They looked like there was something, anyways. Too bad.

- "Uh, am I still needed here, or...?"

- "Thank you Miss Dash, if we need anything we'll call you."

He was dismissing her! With a real sexy smile but still, he was dismissing her! She felt hurt in her pride. Obviously if there was something between he and his partner, she had not lost hope that maybe, she could act as a distraction in what looked like some complicated and probably annoying relationship. How could a relationship with a dorky scientist be interesting or stimulating anyway? She left, giving him in inviting look, barely disguising it so that Bones would not see. That, left the anthropologist fuming with rage. And shameful to be that immaturely jealous.

She waited for them to be alone, all the while searching for an appropriate, icy comment upon his previous behavior. But all she could find was something related to her own frustration.

- "So you do have a taste for vulgar blonds, don't you?"

He made a face, startled. Was she going to make a scene? Like that, in the middle of the street? Was it normal that he felt that thrill invade him? She was jealous, right? She ought to be. She had never mentioned blonds, taste, and vulgar in the same phrase since they knew each other. That ought to mean something. He decided to play her game, curious to see where it would lead them.

- "What do you mean?"

It worked, she seemed to be mad. He had rarely seen her like that. Except that one time when he had stepped accidentally on some old crappy figment of bone which had fallen from the examination table. And that time when... Yeah. Whatever. She was mad, and it was cool.

- "Nothing, except that this is highly unprofessional of you to be flirting with a witness and a potential suspect during a case. How many times did you tell me that?"

- "Many times, as I recall you did flirt and even go on dates with suspects in the past."

Touche. But he had been territorial then, so why could not she be territorial now? She recalled all the times when he would interrupt her dates for this or that reason. Or show up at her apartment when she was having sex with some guy, whoever that was and... Was he jealous then? She was being territorial because she was jealous. Logic would want his own territoriality to be the response of jealousy too. No? What did it mean? Did it mean he had wanted her? Then why didn't he ever kiss her? They had an agreement. It was a clear, unbiased agreement which provided them with comfort and affection from one another without any collateral damage. Why wouldn't he enjoy it if he really wanted her?

- "Were you ever jealous of the men I dated then?"

Her giant leap achieved to startle him. He had thought he was taking control of the exchange, testing her limits in the process, and she was testing him. It was tough sometimes, dealing with a smart ass like that woman. God, how much he loved her.

- "I... I didn't like the fact that they would take advantage of you."

- "It makes no sense Booth. And it doesn't answer my question."

- "I... Fine. I was jealous! But what does it have to do with anything?"

He had thought his confession would cool things down a bit. But on the contrary, she seemed to be more irritated then before. What was she expecting? If she asked that question, it was certainly not to be turned down. She had wanted him to be jealous, right? So what did she want now?

- "You were jealous and you never... You were never mad! It's not fair!"

There, she had said it. Unfair, unfair, unfair. The word had haunted her for about an hour. She felt relieved somehow; even if his face clearly showed incomprehension. She did not want to explain herself and would not explain herself. To explain herself she would have to understand her own reactions, and she had no idea of what was wrong with her.

- "Not fair? What they hell are you talking about Bones?"

- "Nothing. Let's go back to the Jeffersonian."

Now, he was pissed. Not annoyed, irritated, upset. He was pissed. For all the times he did not understand a word of what she said, that particular time he knew he'd better understand, and understand fast because he might have no other chance to have her open up to him like that. So he grabbed her arm and made her look at him.

- "Bones. Stop right there. You tell me what's going on here."

She sighed. The look in her eyes made him melt. It was the sad little girl look she had sometimes, when someone hurt her, or disappointed her. It was the look of the disillusioned 15 year-old Temperance Brennan who discovered that perfection is fleeting. That everything somehow grows to be a disappointment, a mirage. He would not disappoint her.

- "When I saw you with that blond I was jealous. I suppose our partnership made it difficult for me to consider you were not my property and for that, I am more than sorry, but I cannot control it. It is a response of my instinct of preservation. And I was mad. I _am_ mad. So... I can't understand how you could be jealous and territorial with me without ever being mad. You never were. You could be annoying at times, but you never displayed any signs of irritation. I'm just..."

He did not let her finish her sentence. He just grabbed her and kissed her. Would that fall into any of the categories of their agreement thingy? He did not really think of it. He wanted to show her that he had been jealous. So jealous that sometimes, he had wanted to yell at her for being so blind. He had wanted to avoid her not to show how mad he was. Mad that she could keep on seeing other men when he was there, everyday, every second, showing her that he would never fail her.  
Ending the kiss, he just smiled. He had managed to take her breath away, and the alpha-male within was sort of proud of that. That was not even his best, he could make her faint if he wanted to; Rhett Butler style. Alright, maybe not Rhett Butler style, but at least he could make her shiver. He knew he could. He wished he could do it now. But that certainly did not fall into any category of their agreement.

- "I was mad. Each time. And I was sorry too, to consider you as my property because I knew you would give me a lengthy lecture about the impossibility of human beings to belong to anyone but themselves."

He hid it but he was scared. Maybe there would be no turning back. Maybe it was the moment where after opening his heart, he would have to heal it from a sudden break. He had no idea of what would happen. Maybe she would rationalize, categorize and consider it a part of their mutual affection, born from years of close collaboration and all that crap. Or maybe she would give him that look she had given him when he had told her he loved her. Right now, she was not watching him, her head was down. Not a good sign.

- "I don't know what to think, Booth. I truly have no idea. I'm scared."

- "Scared of what?"

His voice was low, almost a whisper. She could feel his lips pressed against her hair as he held her. It made her feel safe. She was lost and scared, but right there, she was safe. Scared and safe, that certainly was an oxymoron but that was how she felt.

- "I don't know. I have to process it. Until then... You don't mind to hold me?"

Nope. He certainly did not mind. Even if he felt he would have to live with their agreement a while longer. Well... if adapted, that was still an agreeable concept. All frustration and expectations aside. Kisses, hugs, avatars of intimacy. If she felt safer with that, he would give it to her. No matter how painful it was. He loved her, and she was his. At least he was sure of it now, and... that was something. No?

**To be continued...**


	5. Discussing Kiss

**Hey y'all!! I'm trying out the Southern accent lol. I'm not American so, I'm sort of extrapolating, but whatever. Sooo... I wrote that tid-bit in the train, again. Thing being that I spend a great deal of time in the train during the week, so my inspiration often catches me there. Which is sort of nice, since I usually sleep otherwise :p. Thanks again for all your reviews and story alerts!! I know where the story is going to go, and it might be a rather long one!! Be prepared.  
Disclaimer: Not mine. But the girl is miiiiiiiiiine, and Michael Jackson too. I'll leave you guys with Paul McCartney. (Yeah for those who are wondering I am listening to "The Girl is Mine" by Paul and Michael) Oh and, Twilight is not mine either, although as most of you I wish Edward was. I mean, I'm just a poor girl with a heart and uh... eyes so. Yeah. Whatever.**

They often went out together. As buddies, nothing... sexual, weird, or awkward. Or any other definition which might fit the profile. Naaah, none of that between them. They were friends. Had been for such a long time that he did not even remember when he had met her. Well, yeah, he did remember, but right now it did not really matter. He needed advice. Not that he would ever admit it, but he needed it badly, and he hoped she would get it and be the good friend she always was in case of trouble. He and Cam were sitting casually at the Founding Fathers' bar; one of the usual turf of the gang. Hopefully they would not meet any of them tonight, they were still working on the case. Tough one actually. Not that they were used to murderers confessing and crying after a little finger had been found in their dumpsters, but this one was a bit of a challenge. As usual, they had only parts of the remains and as a result, Ange had issues with the identification process. That seriously delayed things. They had questioned all the people surrounding the area where the body had been found, including that Miss Dash who had been the cause of troubles Booth was in definite need to share. Although he really, really did not want to. Because yeah, that case was bothering him, and he would talk about nothing else. Speaking fast, his irritation transpiring with each of his moves, he did not even realize that he was making the guessing work way too easy for Cam. Or did he? After all, his only desire was that she would ask him what was going on with him. And she did not. Too engrossed in the case, she also had issues talking about anything else. But she saw. He was acting strange, exactly when he had confessed that Rebecca was pregnant. Oh God... Dr Brennan is pregnant? Oh God, oh God...

- "Seeley, don't tell me Dr Brennan is pregnant..."

He frowned. What the hell? She only got one glass of wine, right? Or she got tequila shots before he got there? That was the only explanation.

- "What??"

- "I don't know, you're agitated, irritated and I know you guys are together, so... I was just doing guesswork. Oh God, no, she got inseminated after all? That's it? You got together after or before she actually did that?"

What in hell was she talking about? Seriously, if she had started smoking pot instead of regular cigarettes, she should rather resume the former bad habit. He had no idea of how his trusted, rational friend whose common sense never failed anyone, could blurt out such absurdities. And he had no idea why he was using the word "absurdity" in his own thoughts. He never did that. Maybe they put things in glasses in that bar.

- "What? We... Bones and I? We're not together!"

- "But she got inseminated, that's it? I wondered why you insisted so much on our spending the evening together, I knew it would be about her, but... Wow. What are you going to do?"

Either she was drunk, or a junkie or... She had talked to Angela and they formed some sort of weird Romance oriented cult aiming to force he and Bones together and live happily ever after. Not that he would mind, but he needed someone with more than one half of a brain to talk seriously about... Well, something which could appear less serious than what Cam thought at the origin of his behavior. Oh hell. Now he felt foolish to be embarrassed by quasi teenage like relational matters; might as well star in _Twilight_.

- "No, Cam. You got whiskey or wine there?"

He took her glass to smell its contents, trying to eliminate one of the three possible explanations for his friend's psychological wanderings. It was wine. So she was not drunk. The more he considered it, the more he thought the idea of a cult with Angela was not so improbable. Sometimes he even wondered if she did not voodoo them to try and get them together. "Them", he and Bones, obviously. Well, it did not work; far from it. Or it was a second hand, dyslexic voodoo priest who understood "kissing together" instead of "sleeping together". Which would not make much difference knowing that if he wanted to, he knew he could take her where and when he wanted. But he did not want that. Well, yeah, he wanted that, but not like that. If that made any sense.

- "Seeley, I'm not drunk, I'm concerned. Since I saw you two kissing in her office I waited for you to tell me about it and know exactly what was going on. You're more and more agitated since then, so I assumed something got wrong."

So she had seen them. Alright, now he felt sorry for the whole "cult" thing. Though he would check if Angela had contacted any voodoo priest lately. That would explain so many things. But doesn't voodoo take only on believers? Maybe it was because of Bones that the spell had not worked. Okay now, he was talking non-sense. Or thinking non-sense, whatever.

- "That? Well, that's... the actual issue. I mean, the reason why I'm agitated. There's nothing going on between me and Bones. Except for that. The kisses."

- "There's nothing going on except kisses? What is that, 6th grade conversation? Although in 6th grade we wouldn't be complaining about getting nothing more than kisses, we'd rather be bragging about it but... You know what? I actually do think I had one too many glass of wine."

Saying that, Cam ordered another glass. She was beginning to think that this would be a long evening, especially if she proved unable to decipher her friend's ramblings. If she had certainly made her own little scenario, with the help of Angela obviously, she had never considered that it could get any more complicated than it already was. And she had not even heard what the fuss was about yet. So another glass to add to the too many was not even that much, right? Poor Seeley, he looked so pathetically in love, helplessly in love. Maternal instinct, if there was any such thing, rushed through Cam as she observed him. His poor puppy gaze, his playing with his glass nervously... God, he was really hot. Had he always been that hot? Wow, maybe she should not have ordered another glass of wine. Guilt led her to pursue the conversation before it transformed into something neither of them really wanted, or well... something he did not want. She was not so sure she did not want it. Naah, she did not; mostly out of respect for Dr Brennan. Yes, absolutely. If they were friends, which she thought they were, she would never forgive herself to repeat the whole Grayson business. Oooh not Grayson again...

- "Anyways... So, Seeley, nothing going on except for kisses. You mind to explain? Otherwise I don't know how I could be of any help."

He took a deep breath. As if it could actually be explained. Out of context it looked like some psycho concept, no sane person would accept to do such a thing; except some moron too much in love to refuse anything, but too scared to do anything more. Pathetic, all this business was plain pathetic.

- "It's... Alright. Promise me you won't... Yeah no, whatever. You're allowed to laugh or call Sweets, or a psychiatrist, it doesn't matter. It all started when my grand-father came over. He told me... He advised me to open up more. You know how much I love that. Anyways, he said that if I wanted Bones to open up more to me I should do the same in return."

- "That's a mighty sensible advice. So what? You kissed both your dysfunctional past away?"

So funny. Hilarious. Though she did make him laugh on the inside, sort of... That did not prevent him from giving her a death glare, to which she immediately responded with a shameful expression. Now she was the one with the puppy look. Endearing.

- "Alright, sorry. Go on."

- "I showed her pictures of me and Jared as kids. And... I found that one picture of my father. I didn't even remember I had it. It just... You know. So she kissed me. She told me it was, I quote 'a display of affection and comfort'. Since then it became recurrent. She found other excuses and so did I. At Christmas we were sort of drunk and... we made out in the kitchen, to celebrate."

- "That's why it took you hours to take the plates! Well, we sort of thought it would be something like that but... God, Angela saw you?"

Seriously, he was trying to find a solution to some of the most ridiculously complicated issues he ever faced and she was wondering if Angela saw them? Although, if she had seen them, there would have been dire consequences like, a flood or squeals, fainting and girlish stuff of the same kind. He'd better not say that out loud. Even if Bones was not there, he knew he would get lectured. Sometimes it was tough being a man in the middle of accomplished women with feminist leanings. Leanings only though, as far as he was concerned, he often considered he was in the middle of the girls bathroom in Junior High. Yeah, out of context that sounded weird but whatever.

- "I don't think she did. You'd have known otherwise. Anyways we... we kissed often since then. It seemed right, you know? No harm, no consequences."

- "But you're dying inside, right?"

- "Yep. I want her... so much it's almost painful. I don't even think she sees it."

He paused. He knew Cam could hear anything but somehow he feared he had pushed it too far. He tried to find out if she was annoyed, or shocked or about to faint... Okay no, stop with the chauvinist cliches on women's sensitivity. She actually was laughing at his apparent discomfort.

- "Seeley, it's okay. You and I are friends; I know you love her. I know what you do for her. As Angela would say, the whole "knight in shiny armor" thingy fits you well."

- "But that's what's wrong, Cam. I don't know if I can do more than that. I really don't. The other day I was interviewing that witness and... I sort of flirted with her. It's a reflex, you know? Anyways, Bones was jealous and she let it show. She told me it wasn't fair that I wouldn't be 'territorial' with her. So I kissed her to prove her wrong. I know I took the whole 'comfort kiss' thing to another level and she saw it. Since then she's distant. Obviously."

Putting the pieces together, Cam understood why the past couple of days had been more tensed than usual. Maybe that also was why the investigation was moving at a slower pace. When these two had issues, generally it transpired on the whole team even though none was aware of the issue at the core of it.

- "What do you want to do about it?"

- "I have no idea. That's why I'm here, talking to you. It's just... I'm just tired. I want her. I want her to know that I want her. I don't know how I was dealing with all that before my whole coma thing. I really don't."

She smiled. So he had realized he loved Dr Brennan before undergoing brain surgery. How he had been dealing with that unrequited love for so long, she had no idea how. But he did. Maybe because he felt she belonged to him in spite of her apparent rebellion. She was his on certain levels, intimate levels which made him believe he was the only constant in her life. That was enough to him then. How could it be enough now that he knew it was only second best?

- "I think... Before you were okay with the fact that she would always come back to you. No matter what happened, no matter who entered her life. You never moved, you showed her she could trust someone wholeheartedly. You did not need more."

- "But now I need more. I want her to love me and I don't care how cheesy it sounds."

She smiled again. The puppy look was back. How could he be so intuitive and yet so stubbornly blind when it came to her? Obviously Brennan was not the easiest person to deal with, but even Cam had seen she was in love with Booth. It was written all over her face. She would light up like a Christmas tree each time he showed up. Sometimes, Cam caught her checking her cell phone anxiously when he was late. Everything about her showed love and he did not see it. How ironic was that?

- "What if she loves you already but is afraid of relinquishing control?"

- "The issue would be the same."

- "Really? Because... Maybe you could work your way up her brain like you have in the past 5 years. She evolved considerably since she met you. Not that I know her that much, but if I saw it, it's certainly because the result is impressive. Why could you succeed in making her more human, and fail in making her love you?"

Right. Maybe Cam was right. Shit. And how would he work his way up? How would he find the patience for it? He wanted her right now. He wanted to marry her and have kids with her. All those things she still considered as futile attempts of homo sapiens to look more civilized than chimps. Or maybe...

- "What you're saying is that, if I keep on playing that game of random kisses thing and tell her that it's just something without consequences, somehow she will realize herself that she's in love with me and that she wants the whole shebang?"

She had not even thought about it but yes, sure. That actually was a great plan. Except that it could last a long time and that he could be battle sore before he obtained any result. That was the risk with Dr Brennan. But if in 5 years he succeeded in transforming an emotionally autistic scientist into a rather warm person -it's all relative; why not winning that battle too? Sure, after all Cam had said it herself. But she had not implied that he should play Brennan's game. After the random kisses could come the random sex and a randomly committed relationship. And what else could the anthropologist come up with to protect herself from her feelings? Right? Naaah. Booth would win that one. She felt it. She trusted her friend and his iron muscles. Okay, no more wine for the evening though.

- "Do that. I'm sure you'll get what you want, G-man."

**  
To be continued...**


	6. Control Kiss

**  
"Control kiss"**

Hey, girls! (and boys, if there are any, but as I recently observed, generally fanfictions are rather the fact of girlish interest. I could tell you why, but it would be a way too lengthy explanation and I'm not here for that :p) So! I had somehow put this fiction aside because I was surprisingly pleased with the recent developments of the original story and to be honest, I got stuck with my psychological exploration of BB's shortcomings. But... Since we have to bear a two months hiatus and that I thus have plenty of time to adapt my story to the original episodes... Now is the time! So, this installment is the direct sequel of the preceding chapter, but the next one will most certainly be inspired by one of the episodes before 100. I think I will join the original narrative around that of 100 and the publication of Sweet's essay. 

**Disclaimer: I know it's not mine, needless to make me repeat it! AAH. **

*******************

He had always tried to be quiet when he entered limbo, because he knew there would be a chance for him to observe her before she would sense his presence. His standing on the threshold made him chuckle inwardly... That was so ironic. He was on the threshold of everything, not shut out of her world, but not entirely invited in either... And he observed her only. He could not touch or taste, he could only admire and long for the instant when he would finally have the right to shut out the world, close the door behind them both and protect her.

Her brows furrowed in concentration, she was bent over the examination table and reviewing each bone with patience, thoroughness. She never missed the slightest of details. This was one of the innumerable reasons why he had fallen in love with her. She never gave up. It did not matter if she doubted, or if she was afraid; she continued because she knew it was the only valuable answer to any mystery. Never giving up. He knew where that came from. Years of fighting adversity had shaped that little wooden-head. This beautiful, outwardly serene face, hiding such a teeming brain. She was so many different things. She always surprised him, despite all these years spent together. Yes, he was in love. Desperately, unmistakably in love. How could he find the strength to keep on pretending when he knew he could simply take a few steps forward and close that door?

He could not trap her. He would not trap her with that love before she asked him to. It did not matter how painful it was getting; he had to hold. Taking a deep breath, he put on his best friendly smile and stepped into the room.

- "Hey, Bones. Anything new?"

She acknowledged his presence with a glance, rapidly turning her attention back to the set of bones exposed before her. That would be difficult. If only he had not acted on that impulse and kissed her. But what else was there to do then? He had turned and tossed at night, wondering what he should have done. He simply found no answer. This was how this game was meant to end, in an inextricable mess that would either break them or unite them.

- "...Okay, so it means nothing new."

He heard her sigh. It was imperceptible, but he knew that this slight display of emotional weakness would be his only chance. If he had any. Cam's advice better be worthwhile. He moved closer to the table, closer to her. She reacted instantly, taking a step back. He whispered.

- "Bones... Talk to me."

She glanced at him again. This time he saw what she had attempted to conceal earlier. Fear. She was afraid of him. Maybe he was not on the threshold of her world anymore. She had shut him out.

- "I am trying to work, Booth."

Before she could turn her back on him, he seized her wrist, careful not to touch her latex glove. He knew that if he did, she would use that excuse to scold him about the contamination of evidence, and the conversation would be over before it even began.

- "I won't let you do this."

She frowned. She had perfectly understood him, but she would obviously pretend not to. It was her way to delay explanations, questioning. He had grown accustomed to it. He was prepared.

- "You won't let me work?"

His foresight made him smile. Even if she was always able to surprise him, he knew her. This little victory gave him the confidence he needed to pursue. If he was to convince her of anything, he would have to trust himself more than she seemed to trust him then.

- "Shut me out, Bones. I won't let you. I want you to listen to me."

He gave her her hand back, waiting for a sign of protest. It didn't come. She just stared at him. She always did that when she expected further explanations. Her thirst for answers stronger than her apparent fear. Yes, he really loved her for that. But her silence made him nervous. What would he say now? He had thought about dozens of speeches but none seemed relevant. He would have to improvise. Improvise with Temperance Brennan, one sure way to mess things up.

- "I... Can I shut the door?"

It was symbolic, but he needed to know if he had any chance to be welcome in her world again. If she accepted, it would mean there was a chance. She nodded. He felt like doing a victory dance, but considered it wiser to simply nod back. Closing the door also provided him with enough time to gather his thoughts. The whole threshold metaphor suddenly seemed really useful. When he turned around to face her again, her expression was mixed with confusion and expectation. He felt as though she was anticipating his speech, hopeful that it would bring her the comfort she desperately needed. Or maybe that was hopeful thinking on his part. Yeah, probably.

- "Alright. Nothing changed. It's you and me Bones. Whatever happens, even if you doubt, or if you're afraid of anything, I'm here. I won't go anywhere. I know you need to understand what's happening. But you know that I'm here to help you understand too."

He had no idea of what he had just said, much less if it meant anything to her. He had only focused on one thing, making sure that she knew he would not let her go. No matter what she needed. If she needed time, he would give it; if she needed lies, he would lie; but he would not let go. He wanted her to know that he was an unmovable component of her existence. She bit her upper lip, suddenly shy. So he had made some sense? If only she could speak.

- "I do need to understand."

She was visibly uncomfortable, but she did not avert her gaze. Her deep blue eyes more penetrating than ever. He dared to move forward, carefully, almost afraid one too many step would make her vanish. He whispered again. This time she did not step back, but he saw her hold her breath an instant.

- "Tell me."

She exhaled loudly. It seemed all her anxiety was concentrated in that sigh. She looked down.

- "I have grown accustomed to our relationship. I realized I had when I displayed signs of territoriality when I should not have. Those kisses, it seemed natural, because of the familiarity of our relationship. But it was inappropriate. I guess you complied to avoid any discomfort between us, but with this suspect, the other day, I know I went too far. I don't understand what's wrong with me. Why are you smiling?"

He could not prevent himself. He knew this was the last thing she wanted to see, but the sudden realization that they had shared the exact same fear all along was filling his heart with relief. Now he knew exactly what to do.

- "I never 'complied' to avoid discomfort. If I kissed you it's because it seemed natural to me too. It is what it is. There is nothing inappropriate in that."

- "But what does it mean?"

She seemed impatient. He would have to be very careful.

- "It doesn't have to mean anything, Bones. It's just us. We've always been there for each other, this is what we do."

It killed him inside to lie. If he could, he would rather take her in his arms and tell her not to be afraid of her feelings, to trust them, and to trust him. To explain point after point that what she was experiencing was not abnormal, that she was jealous because she might be falling in love with him. That if she wanted to, he was ready to wait as long as she needed to be certain of what she expected of them both. But she was not there yet. She would not accept to be given a paternalistic lecture about her inner weakness. She just needed to regain control. He would give her control. This was just how much he loved her. Even if it meant lying.

- "So what do we do exactly?"

She was really desperate for answers. She did not bother to disguise her fragility, it was only the two of them, the door shut, in their own world. She had never shut him out, she had feared he did not want in. If only she knew how much he dreamed of being one with her, just like now.

- "We do what we always did."

With that he took a last step forward, close enough to feel her breath against his neck. And slowly, simply, he kissed her. For a second, nothing like their last kiss. He wanted her to know where they were standing.

- "We comfort each other, we support each other. We care for each other. We're partners."

For the first time in days, she smiled. She had answers. She had not given up on him, on them. They were partners. That was all she needed for now.

**To be continued...**


	7. Sorry Kiss

**  
" Sorry Kiss"**

I'm on fire. Well, not really, I am mostly lymphatic. But while I was on the train I wrote a tidbit which follows "The Proof in the Pudding". Like many of you guys I needed to add my two cents to the whole "John Wilkes Booth" deal, even though I keep hammering that historically it doesn't make sense that he would be Booth's ancestor. But whatever. I came home seeing that my internet down so I'm writing that for myself -virtually. For now. I don't despair to see the internet guys doing their job and giving me back my oxygen. No, I'm not a geek, I need internet to work. (And I am a geek, yeah, tss)

Disclaimer: John Wilkes Booth and Abraham Lincoln do not belong to FOX. Abe belongs to me because he was amazingly manipulative and I admire that greatly. Plus he believed in doppelgangers. Yeah the rest belongs to FOX, rhaaa.

******************

A few weeks had passed since the limbo kiss, they both had returned to a relative comfort zone -at least she had while he was careful not to unsettle her with a new introspective evaluation. She was smiling again, laughing even, they were what they were supposed to be: partners. His decision to play her game had made him review the real meaning of that word, and strangely, it made him experience an unexpected sensation of relief. These past months he had forgotten how he had managed to accept that in-between situation with her for so long, but lately their cozy co-existence had reminded him. _Partners _was a euphemism, a misuse of a deeply meaningful term bastardized for professional purposes. They were partners indeed but their relationship embraced the fullness of the term.

They were close physically, emotionally and as she had observed herself, despite the intellectual and financial contradictions, they were to each other the closest thing to a rightful half. In fact they were each other's half. Not even metaphorically.  
That explained why he had risked his life and jeopardized his career on countless occasions, why he had been so patient, why he had accepted to obliterate his personal life and silently worship her ground instead. That explained why the previous night he had forcefully made his way into the lab, not to be separated from her.  
It had been a long, somewhat painful night, but this morning the sum of all his choices made him feel strangely alive. He was not certain if she had purposely dissimulated the truth of her findings to protect his convictions, but in all cases, he knew her dexterity proved she considered him her half too.

- "Why are you smiling, Booth?"

They were still walking in the streets of D.C., enjoying the slowly awakening capital together, as they often did in the past.

- "It's a beautiful morning."

She frowned. Yes, the weather was surprisingly pleasant for a late winter day, but what was so special about it? They had lived an horrid night.

- "You're sleep deprived, most likely delusional."

He chuckled. He had expected that answer. Always matter-of-fact, up to the point, concise and precise Bones; he loved her. She was such an amazing amalgamation of childlike unconsciousness and frightening intelligence. She was his to protect from the cold realities of the world.

- "I think you're right. Nevertheless, I'm enjoying."

She nodded; attempting to analyze an hidden meaning in his words. She could not understand his joyful composition after what he had been through. What she had put him through. As usual she had lacked for perspective and had been judgmental, even disrespectful to a certain extent. But he was there, laughing with her. Had he forgotten? Or forgiven? She had not. She could not forget or forgive herself just yet.

They reached the Lincoln Memorial, without really thinking. He made them sit on the steps, amazed at his constant surprise when facing the sights of this city. It seemed to evolve with each passing hour, the purity of its architecture transcended by light. He really loved this place. It did not matter that his confidence in the purity of those who had built the Federal capital did not echo his architectural impression of balance. The spirit in which this place had been created, some two hundred years before, seemed to remain. He could sense this purity in the presence of persons like his Bones, dedicated to the truth and to justice. He was in peace -maybe she was right about the sleep deprivation thingy.

When he felt her lean onto his side, he instinctively put an arm around her. It felt good to be reunited wit his half, fitting both their bodies in the warm cocoon of completeness. She loved his scent; he knew she did because she always took deep breaths when he was holding her. That was true. This scent made her feel safe and loved. Even if she did not put such words on her feelings. She was in peace -most likely sleep deprived herself.

But this sensation made her wonder once more how he could be so patient, so comprehensive with her when it seemed to her she made no effort in return. She did not consider her lie about JFK like something equivalent to his constant efforts; merely an attempt to say "I'm sorry" without using words. But had it been enough? She needed to make sure. Putting her chin on his shoulder, she observed him an instant. He was still smiling, his gaze lost in some remnants of morning mist above the mall. She did not question the physical intimacy of the moment -as he had told her some time before, that was what they did, they were partners. She wondered if that word had some hidden meaning. When he turned his gaze toward her, she smiled. Slowly drawing closer. Before he knew what she was doing, her lips were upon his. He close his eyes, overwhelmed by the sweetness of her touch. It was definitely a beautiful morning.

- "What's that for?"

They were smiling against each other's lips when he asked. It seemed to him it was the most intimate kiss they had shared ever since they had gotten caught in that mess of in-betweens. He did not mind the mess. Not now that he knew she was aware of the true meaning of the word _partners_.

- "It was to say I'm sorry..."

He frowned. Sorry for what? For being his, even if she did not know it yet? Before he could ask, she continued.

- "... For that."

He followed the movement of her index behind them. Lincoln. She was designating the massive marble statue of the president with a shameful expression. He chuckled again.

- "Using a pronoun to describe a president, Bones?"

His apparent nonchalance confused her. She was trying to apologize, a real ordeal for someone as proud as Temperance Brennan. But she wanted to do it because she cared for him. Didn't he care?

- "I promised not to mention it again. Nor him or,...the other person involved."

She seemed earnest, adorably earnest. He had forgotten their argument. They argued often, so often that he knew exactly when her childlike unconsciousness would take over before she did. He did not mind it, on the contrary, because he knew she would never lie to him. Maybe with the exception of this morning. Naah... It did not matter. None of this mattered. They had done what partners do, they had protected each other from the cold realities of the world. Well... She had protected him. She was his half.

- "Thanks, Bones."

With that he put his forehead against her temple, taking a deep breath. He loved her scent too. It made him feel alive. It was soft, fresh, pulsating like a heart-beat. Like this early morning, it made him realize that the purity of this woman was what would always draw him to her. She was his redemption. Fragile, sweet redemption he would protect from the harshness of life, even if it meant waiting for her a lifetime.  
**  
To be continued... **


	8. Vodka Kiss

**  
"Vodka kiss"**

Now I do think I'm on fire. It's 7:45am. I started writing on my notepad at 6:00am. The fact that I'm now used to wake up at 5:30am or so makes it sort of not a big deal. But anyway, as I am not even sure snow will permit me to go to college today, might as well take advantage of all that time lost to write what I imagined in a passionate frrrenzy (quote Ange). I don't even know when I'll be able to publish it pff. It's set after the Jared episode -what the hell was the title already? Well, it's 5x13 anyway. _The Guy Tossed in the Civil War Thing_. Yeah it's early mmh. Whatever. (_The Dentist in the Ditch_! AH! Victory!)

Disclaimer: I wished Rupert Murdock would own France, this way he would handle the snow problem much better. I mean there's over a meter of snow in D.C., and people still live (or not) and here we only need two inches to think about jumping off bridges. Pathetic. All that doesn't change anything to the fact that I don't own _Bones_, duh.

*******************

It was late. Was it? She could not read time well on that silly watch. What was with Rolex anyway? Perfect Swiss mechanism of perfect golden perfection. Yes. But it still did not give her time. She squinted, trying to focus on the longest needle. Which one gives the hour? Defeated, she took another sip of that awfully strong drink she had ordered. Was was it? She glanced towards Booth and realized he was watching her, fairly amused.

- "So now you believe in l.o.v.e, loooove?"

What? Was she that drunk that she needed to have words spelled for her? She was perfectly capable of spelling it herself. What was the word already?

- "Why did you spell it? I am totally capable of spelling... that."

He made the goofy face she found so adorable. But there was no telling him that. No way. All the drunken drunkenness in the world would not make her say something that embarrassing. Ever. He was really cute though.

- "It's just a thing. It's Michael Jackson, you know? _This is it_. I told you about him some time ago, you remember?"

She remembered. The hip thrusting thing? That was hot. He was hot. They would be hot together. And that drink was hot too. It burnt her throat when she let out her answer.

- "Yeah. Your hip movement was very arousing."

Had she said that out-loud? Shit. Oh whatever, she was a smart ass, she would disguise it with some totally intelligent comment on the law of gravity or something. Damn, who invented that? It's Newton? Darwin? Archimedes? It's the guy with the apple or the bath. Naah, Darwin was the guy with the pretty animals. She suddenly felt the urge to buy a kitten.

- "... I think I'm going to buy a cat."

He frowned. What the hell was going on in her head for her to mention his arousing hips and then all of a sudden want to buy cats? He should not let her drink. Or... He should try and make her talk. Was that bad? It did sound bad. But he could not help it. So he grinned and ordered two other glasses.

- "You didn't answer me about l.o.v.e...."

He could tell she was drunk because she got visibly dizzy when she spun her head to look at him. She frowned to try and concentrate. That was adorable. Damn he loved her. So much he could just... like... take her on the bar. Yeah, he had had his share of drinks too.

- "What? What did I say about l.o.v.e.? The chemical reaction thingy? No; I said I believed I thought that l.o.v.e might come first. But that's it."

It seemed her sentence made sense. Did it? He looked like he had not understood. She had not used polysalla... pylysiall... yeah, big words. Why was he frowning then?

- "So you don't believe in love?"

What? She never said that! Yeah, he had not understood. Sometimes she was just too intelligent and she did not realize when people had issues following her hyper rational and kick ass reasoning. She took another sip, satisfied with her intellectual skills.

- "No, sure, I believe in l.o.v.e."

Now what? Why was he frowning again? She had spelled it right. She was a doctor. Okay?

- "But you just said you didn't."

He certainly had too much drinks because she would recall having said that. What had they been talking about exactly anyway?

- "Did I? Naaah. I believe in it. Loooo-ooove, l.e.v.e. Yeah."

With that she raised her glass before emptying it. He laughed, louder than he had expected. She was so drunk. He did not remember having ever seen her that way. Tipsy, yes, but drunk enough to misspell a word? Never. He did not even have a camera. Damn.

- "You sooo misspelled it. Michael Jackson judges you."

She pointed her index in his face, squinting as she followed her own gesture.

- "Hey! Don't speak ill of the dead. He will go all _Thriller_ over you if you do."

Now what's with the new frowning? He looked like her father. Paternila... Pitarnala... Being all dad over her. She was a grown woman, her bras size could prove it. What was her size by the way?

- "I thought you didn't know Michael Jackson?"

She snorted involuntarily.

- "Yeah right. Like I wouldn't know Michael Jackson. I didn't say because you were so funny with your dancing and I didn't want you to stop."

With that, she started her own version of the zombie dance from _Thriller_, moving her arms from right to left. Some people glanced at her, but she did not care. He chuckled.

- "Bones, you're hammered."

She felt indignant. She was not! She was merely joyful. They were celebrating a major event in the life of... What were they celebrating? It suddenly seemed she had been in that bar for years. She wondered where her apartment was.

- "I am not. I merely had four glasses. It's just some milliliters per glass and in total it only makes it four times some milliliters, so it's really not that much."

Maybe he was right, she did not remember how to multiply. Or was it divide?

- "You had vodka! I'm telling you, you're wasted."

He was loud. If she was drunk, then he was too, hey! That was only fair, after all he had been the one taking her to that bar. At least, she remembered that. Maybe he wanted to sleep with her... She was not against that idea at all.

- "You're wasted too."

He shook his head, emptying his glass.

- "I'm not. I'm celebrating my brother's mistake."

AH! That was why they were there! Jared and the former hooker had been there with them, like a million years before. They had left too? When did they do that? Hey what was the name of the girl?  
She was jealous of her beautiful ebony hair.

- "I wish I had the hooker's hair."

She covered her mouth when she realized she had said it. He laughed.

- "... I mean the _former_ hooker."

He wondered what the world would look like if Bones was always like that. Not "like that" as in always hammered, but as in, unable to prevent anything to come out of her mouth. Then he realized she _was_ always like that, even when sober. Except for the whole colloquial approximations. Plus he preferred her hair. She was so hot. Yeah, he was drunk too. But she was still hot.

- "I prefer your hair. You smell like fruits."

Shit. He was in the critical area of semi-consciousness between drunkenness and sobriety. He was losing control of his own tongue. If not literally, yet... Damn and now he wanted to kiss her. Maybe she tasted like fruits too. Most likely, like vodka right now, but he knew it would still taste like fruits. Or like little angels in the sky. She took a strand of her hair between her fingers to smell it. It smelled like shampoo, not like fruits. It was like saying he smelled like musk, it was just his after-shave. A damn good after-shave though...

- "You would marry me then?"

He frowned. What? Had he passed out during their conversation or was that another of her usual giant leaps? She was drunk, she was supposed to be intellectually paralyzed! God, he'd better not tell her that, otherwise he would end up holding his crotch and asking for an ambulance.

- "What?"

She made her practical face. She was so hot when she did that.

- "Jared marries the former hooker and she has beautiful hair. So if you like my hair that means you want to marry me."

She frowned at her own reasoning. It was flawed but she could not tell how. It had seemed so logical when she had thought about it. After all, he had been the one starting the whole l.o.v.e. thing with Michael Jackson, the hips and the fruits. Right?

- "You'd like me to marry you?"

His question was tentative, but he disguised it with a charm smile. Installing intimacy between them by drawing closer. It was getting dangerous. Much too dangerous, but so intoxicating. Or vodka was intoxicating, he could not decide.

- "Would we have sex?"

He bit his lower lip, considering her question. Really? She thought he would marry her and not have sex with her? Were they in the Antebellum South or what? He would have sex with her now if he could. On the bar. Yeah he had already said it, whatever.

- "Yeah."

She raised an eyebrow, apparently satisfied with his answer.

- "Alright I would marry you then."

He was taken aback. So used to her diatribe on the antiquated ritual that was marriage and her whole feminist crap. She had said she would marry him, right? Wow. Maybe he was really very drunk. But hey! She said she would marry him for sex. He felt used. And he felt sissy to feel used. He made a face.

- "You just wanna have sex with me. There's no l.o.v.e. in there."

She had made it sound like that? Shit. Well, yes she wanted to have sex with him. He was so damn attractive. All that skeletal and muscular structure, that was hot. There were names for all these things but she had to concentrate to remember them and that gave her a headache. The result was the same, he was hot. She wanted him. But she loved him too. So she decided to prove him she was right because after all, she was the one with the doctorate. She kissed him, suddenly, and he had to hold onto the bar not to fall from his stool. When she broke the kiss, she seemed satisfied with her experiment.

- "AH! Chemical reactions all over. It's not just sex. I mean I do feel aroused in your presence, and stuff. But I love to kiss you too. It makes me feel like you're mine."

He tried to process all the things she had told him. Recovering from the kiss was on thing, but recovering from those words... She wanted him? She loved to kiss him and she wanted him to be hers? Oh damn. She loved him, right? He was not imagining things?

- "You love me?"

Dammit. Why on earth had he opened his mouth? He should have kissed her instead. Wha... Why was she laughing? Oh crap, she was going to make fun of him.

- "Yeah, but shhhhhhhhhh. Don't tell anyone, it's a big secret."

Hopefully, she would not remember anything in the morning. That meant he would have to get her more drunk than she already was. Yeah, well, it was not that late anyway. What time was it? Goddamn watch... Never gets the time straight after vodka. Or did it get things too straight? Shit. She loved him. Yeah, it would be better to get her back home before he told her he loved her too. He was just one glass away from that.

**To be continued...**


	9. Goodnight Kiss

**  
"Goodnight Kiss"**

**Alright, so, I worked on my outline and I have an announcement to make (this is much too solemn, at least there aren't drums) this is the antepenultimate chapter. In other words, I only have another two to write after this one. I will end on the oh-so-awaited episode 100, where the original story will join my own narrative. Sooo, this chapter is set after _The Devil in the Details,_ when BB exit the diner. (I obviously thank you all for your reviews and story alerts!)**

Disclaimer: It's not mine. Although I named my cat Fox. Not because of that FOX though.

****************

The air was cold when they left the diner. He could almost smell snow. What an irony after having been so close to the burning flames of hell, right? That reminded him how Bones was right. No matter how disconcerting life can become at times, there are still details -insignificant to some people- to give you perspective on what scares you, what hurts you. Some truth in every lie. Some light in the dark. All those little things she was to him too. All the greater things, like her insane confession, and the turmoil in which it had plunged his thoughts... All that was not so frightening when he was walking by her side, enjoying this simple contact.  
She had never mentioned that drunken evening, most likely never would, but he could not tell whether she remembered or not. This was scaring him to death. Her attitude towards him had not changed, but he ignored if this was a positive sign. He had "fixed" them once, he did not know if he could do it twice. Most likely not. Those thoughts occupied his mind constantly. That was the reason why he enjoyed evenings like this more than usual. Because everything seemed simple again. Adequate.  
Their walk towards the parking lot of the Jeffersonian was silent, peaceful. They had left both their cars there; their need for some fresh air stronger than their exhaustion. He felt disappointed when they reached the familiar entrance of the Museum. Tonight it seemed it was not far enough, their moment not long enough. He would leave her, and he would ask himself again all these questions to which he had no answer. Hopeful that this situation would end, that she would say something someday, to free him from this unbearable expectation.  
When she spotted her car, parked on her usual lot, she greeted him with a puzzling smile. It was a goodbye, but not only. It looked as though she did not want to part either.

- "Well..."

He smiled back, feeling like a stupid teenager.

- "Well... 'Night, Bones."

He did not calculate his movements, but he motioned to kiss her on the cheek. He never did that. What on earth would she think? It was too late, he was too close. Might as well do it and deal with embarrassment later. When he drew back to look at her, surveying her expression with apprehension, he saw she was still smiling.

- "Goodnight, Booth."

And she kissed him. It was simple, a detail. But it erased all his doubts. He fought the urge to deepen that kiss, to prolong the moment. Used to this painful yearning. He knew that each of these kisses, each of these details were drawing them closer to the instant he awaited. His patience would be rewarded, he was certain.  
A pair of eyes, rather two pairs, witnessed that peculiar scene from afar. One squeal away from disaster, Sweets jumped on Angela to prevent any overreaction. But he realized she was calm, and mostly appalled to have been attacked by the young psychologist. She gave him a tap on the shoulder, her glare as full of accusations as her whisper.

- "Are you crazy, Sweets? What do you think you're doing?!"

He felt stupid. He, more than anyone else should have known that if something like that occurred, she would most likely be aware of it before him. That was not fair, in his opinion, but that was logical since she was Brennan's best friend. He took a moment to recompose himself, observing the partners in the distance, exiting the parking lot in their respective cars. Wow. He had not seen that coming. What did it mean?

- "I'm... I'm sorry. I just... I don't want you to think I believe you belong to the excessively expressive category, it's just that..."

She crossed her arms, as she always did to accompany her disbelieving face.

- "Yeah, right, that's why you tried to muffle an hypothetical scream, right? I would never have done that! I would have lurked instead; if you had not prevented me!"

Now he doubted his abilities as a psychologist. He had been formed to be able to interpret behavioral subtleties and, not only he had failed to see that something had changed between Booth and Brennan, but he also applied the most archetypal evaluation to Angela. Oh crap, was he really the one to blame? She was always overreacting, why was it different now? Yeah, the only possibility was that she knew; and from psychological failure, he came back to the initial feeling of rejection. He had thought he was part of this peculiar family. Was that untrue?

- "Did you know? I mean... You act as though it was no news. It's.. huge. And you're all like... it's nothing. I'm totally lost here."

She gave him a sympathetic smile.

- "I did not 'know' really. I had doubts. I shared them with Cam and she confirmed."

It reassured him; no one knew. Well, almost. He hated to feel left out. Since he had taken part in the life of the little group, he had never felt the painful sting of rejection. Now this feeling of insecurity dismissed, he focused on something far more entertaining, curiosity.

- "What did she confirm?"

Angela took her conspiratorial airs. That promised to be interesting.

- "She talked to Booth some time ago. Apparently, he and Brennan kiss for this or that reason. She launched the whole deal after Booth's grand-father came to town. Booth tries to make the best of it, but it kills him inside. He wants more. But she's not ready, obviously. The same old song. Cam advised him to wait until she realized she wanted more too."

He nodded, considering the advice given by Cam in such a situation. He would have done the same thing. He had, in the past, when Booth had decided to confess his feelings. He had lied, told him his feelings were ephemeral, because he clearly knew that Bones was not ready to face the force of such a confession. Was she now? He wondered. He had not seen much, but her gestures seemed to show great affection, trust and willingness. Booth had been timid and she had been the bold element. It ought to mean something. If only he could confront them. But if they had told no one, safe for Cam... It would not be a good idea. Things were certainly too complicated for him to meddle into this relational mess. Not that it had ever been simple between them, but they seemed so close to a resolution that it could only be worse. The typically built up tension before the climactic moment of truth. Yet he felt he had to help. Call it a professional flaw.

- "Maybe Dr Brennan is ready to face the reality of her feelings for agent Booth..."

He was thinking out loud, but it did not miss to get the attention of Angela.

- "Really? What can we do about it?"

Now she looked like her old self, over-enthusiastic. He had to think it all through, but an embryo of a plan started to emerge. He would need Ange. Not that he doubted her desire to be implicated...

- "I think... I did not observe them long enough to be in a position to make the most appropriate evaluation. I need more elements. But I can't confront them; a frontal examination of their feelings could be particularly dangerous."

She nodded. Already receptive to the plan he had not formulated yet. She tried not to clap her hands. She was delighted, the lab was always boring in between investigations and she had been prevented from intervening in her colleagues' sentimental life by Cam. Now she had an ally, more than that, she had the rightful excuse of psychological evaluation!

- "You want to follow them?"

He gave her a startled look. She was frighteningly intuitive, that was not a mere legend. Although he would have used more technical terms to avoid the unhealthy connotations of "following" their friends. That made them look like maniacs.

- "I suggest we observe their behavior in order to draw the appropriate conclusions."

She made another disbelieving face.

- "Sweets, you just wanna spy on them to see if they make out. Say it."

He opened his mouth to protest and then closed it. Yeah. Whatever. Why contradict her? She was right. But the idea was not to lurk, he wanted to help. So did she, most likely. That is why he reminded her that if they were to "spy" that was not for the beauty of voyeurism.

- "I want to help them. So do you. We need to know if we can talk them into a sentimental evolution or if it is too soon. Out of respect for them, as friends, but also as patients, I ought not to force anything upon them."

She smiled. He was so cute when he was getting all shrinky on her. If he had not been with Daisy she might have awarded him with the benefits of her return on the market... Yeah, well, stop. Wendell had taken that spot. Not that he was much older than Sweets though. She realized she was a cougar. The thought would have horrified her if she had not already been busy scheming some romantic match-making for her best friend.

- "Okay, baby shrink. So how do we do that?"

**  
To be continued...**


	10. Spying Kiss

**  
"Spying Kiss"**

**I still don't have the internet. France Telecom, I hate you. Official statement on . NA! This put aside, that gives me more time to focus on the end of this fanfic without the troubling and unsettling news that indeed, Booth will see the infamous Dr Klein in 5x19. Pff... Resorting to third parts induced jealousy to get BB together is totally tacky in my opinion. If they were not avatars of BB, that would basically suck. But they are avatars (Cathy/Andy) so... Let's say I'll give the benefit of the doubt to HH, since the finale will make us want to dance in our underwear. I propose we do it and make a contest of the best victory dance post BB ship epiphany. Oh! Talking about bets and contests, I must thank Annick for the previous chapter because she is the one who gave me back some trust in Sweets and his motivations. And this chapter, is set after/during/around episode 5x15, the so anxiously awaited "The Bones on the Blue Line". Which means, to me, if we use the initials BBL: BB LOOOVE. AAAH!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FOX, Bones, HH or Dr Klein. If I did, she would never have been written. Instead I would have written what I am about to write now. Yes, that's a lot of writing.**

**************  
**

It felt like some CIA operation. Except that it was not. Angela and Sweets had spent most of their lunch breaks together in the past week. Everyone wondered what was going on, but they had dismissed the issue by saying they were preparing Sweets' wedding proposal to Daisy. That was not even a lie, Sweets had indeed decided to make that big step, which somehow made him feel guilty as he put twice as much energy in the non-relationship of Booth and Brennan. He felt his own happiness would not be complete if his hypothetical best man ruined his big day by ruminating a not so unrequited love. It was very Disney like, in reality. He believed in "happily ever after" and he wanted to apply it to their little group. He suppressed the analogy between his Daisy and the animated fairyland to which Angela kept referring. Indeed, she had called their operation "Mickey and Minnie". He had not asked why, but he figured he could easily identify the origins of such an immature sentimentalism. He could not judge though, introspectively, he knew he had the same trouble. Was it really troublesome anyway? He wondered as he and Angela were sitting in his car, parked on the street across the diner.

- "Okay, baby shrink, I spotted Mickey. Do you see Minnie?"

He rolled his eyes.

- "We're alone, you don't have to use code-names."

She sighed, he was such a spoils sports. She had had so much fun in the past few days, but he kept playing the kill-joy by reminding her why they were doing this. To her it just seemed he suppressed his own cheesy romanticism. Talk about an irony for a psychologist.

- "Mickey entered Sleeping Beauty's castle."

She would not comply. Of course. But he really had troubles calling Booth "Mickey" for some odd reason. Years of intimidation had transformed into a surrogate relationship of paternalistic respect and fear. In other words, he considered Booth as something between a big brother and a father -with a gun. So the idea of comparing him to an animated mouse was nothing short of odd.

- "Why did you call the diner like that? If we should use that code-name, it should be for Brennan's apartment..."

She made her usual disbelieving face.

- "You are never available at night to spy on them at their places!"

At first, Angela had established a schedule, they were supposed to report to each other on the whereabouts of their friends, quasi 24/7. But he reminded her that they both had a life outside of this holy mission. At least he had. Daisy could understand that he had to take patients during lunch breaks -a harmless lie- but not after 8pm. That was just too much. So Angela had decided they would reduce their schedule. She was clearly disappointed, but if she did not spot anything meaningful by the end of the week, she would take upon herself to increase her spying rate. If that made any sense. Well, to her it did.

- "What would we see anyway? Unless you asked them to sit in a corner of their apartments and ignore your presence, you would gain no valuable information from a stake-out outside of their places."

It was her turn to roll her eyes. He could be so naive sometimes.

- "We could see how long they stay together, if the bedrooms lights are on or not. Hell, we could get a glimpse of another of their goodnight kisses!"

She had a point. Maybe that would be more productive, so far they had not observed anything special. At least nothing obvious enough for an amateur. He had noticed some changes in their postures, in the use of both their personal spaces. If Booth always had a tendency to invade other people's personal space, it seemed he was holding back with Brennan, waiting for her to penetrate his space before making a move. He was clearly in expectancy. She, on the other hand, seemed more comfortable, leaning toward him, smiling more often. He could see she was adapting subconsciously to some sort of revelation. She was experimenting the sensations of physical closeness with her partner. This impression reinforced Sweets' conviction that she was ready to face the reality of her feelings. He did not know how yet, but he would find a way.  
His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Brennan. Or Minnie. Might as well please Angela if he wanted to escape the whole "apartment stake-out" plan, that he knew, was already formed in the artist's mind.

- "Here comes Minnie."

Angela smiled. Minnie had made her way through the diner rapidly, searching for Mickey with, it seemed, a bit too much enthusiasm. He was installed at their usual table. Neither Angela or Sweets missed the smile lighting up on Mickey's face when he saw his Minnie. They were so adorable, they did not even have a clue about it.

- "Aww, look at them... I wish we could lock them up in a closet until they do it."

It was not the first time Sweets heard such a comment. Actually it was one of the most common of Angela Montenegro's colorful statements. Not that he had not considered the idea of an enclosed space himself. If that was the only way for his favorite patients to confront the truth of their attachment. Yeah, he was spending way too much time with Ange. Definitely.

- "You see how she is touching his forearms? She did not do that before. A behavioral study of personal space intrusions showed that North-American people figured among the less intrusive specimens. They respect a distance twice as important as in Europe. In the course of an hour, they touch between 3 and 6 times. Here, how many times have you seen them touch each other?"

She considered his question, surveying her own tendency to touch people, and she realized that he was right. She had issues sharing her personal space. So that was cultural? She had always thought she was a free-spirit. Maybe she was just being "North-American", as he had put it. Observing her best-friend, she wondered if she had European roots. Indeed, Brennan kept brushing Booth's fingers, either to catch fries on his plate, or to ask for time. They had been together for merely five minutes, and they had already touched over five times. That was an interesting average.

- "Oh my God, you're right! They're all over each other!"

The semantic approximation made Sweets smile. He remembered the crush he had had on Ange when they first met. He had found her so fantasist, amusing; fascinating in fact. He suppressed the memory, reminding himself that he had a marriage proposal to make.

- "Her invasion of his space would equal a subconscious attempt to communicate her recent discovery. Which is that she is receptive to his love for her. At least, this is the conclusion I can draw with superficial observations such as this."

Angela nodded. She would have preferred to see them make out. But the prospect of being responsible for future making out session between the two partners made her hopeful. If she had to choose between lurking and match-making, she would choose the latter. She was more of the active type than passive, anyway. The thought made her giggle. Sweets made a face.

- "What is it?"

She gave him a sympathetic smile. Only because she was about to embarrass him with yet another sexual innuendo and that she knew it was wrong. But so funny.

- "I was thinking about the fact that our participation in Booth and Bren's relationship would evolve from being passive to being... active."

He nodded slowly, frowning. Had she implied something sexual? Most likely, seeing the emphasis she had put on the last words of her sentence. Was that some sort of message? Shit, maybe she had realized he had a crush on her. Well, had had a crush, in the past. Whatever, they already had one case of relational neurosis to treat, better not add his own remnants of teenage fantasies to the equation. Then suddenly, it hit him.

- "I know what to do! My book!"

Now Ange was the one frowning. Disappointed that her joke had not achieved her primary goal. Well, if he had an idea, it better be a kick-ass idea.

- "What's with your book? You wrote a book? What is it, F.B.I shrinky romance?"

He had not told anyone about it aside from Wyatt and the main subjects of his study. He had done so because he had feared that Angela's enthusiasm for the intimacy of her friends would become problematic in the course of his psychological inquiry. Now that they were hiding in a car at lunchtime to spy on his book's subjects... To hell with secrecy.

- "I wrote an analytical essay on interpersonal relations in the workplace, with Booth and Brennan as my main subjects of evaluation."

- "And?"

- "I concluded that they were in love with each other. But out of respect for them, I decided not to publish it before they were in a position to accept that fact."

She tried not to laugh. He had concluded they were in love with each other? She had seen that years ago, and he was the one with a degree in psychology? Maybe she had misdirected her career...

- "Alright. So what you're saying is that it is time for them to accept that fact, and that it is the occasion for you to throw it in their faces by publishing your ground-breaking discovery."

He sensed mockery in her voice. Was that a bad idea?

- "You don't think it would work?"

- "Hey, you're the shrink, baby. But I was wondering if I should not test the waters first. Ah! Minnie and Mickey are leaving Sleeping Beauty's castle. Perfect timing."

That meant lunchtime break was close to an end. Generally Booth and Brennan took their time. They talked a lot. He had observed that they would take much less time to eat when they were with other people. But with each other, it could last hours. That alone, spoke volumes, literally. But Angela was right. She should have a little "girl talk" with Brennan. Just to confront their theory with the usual denial of the anthropologist. If Angela sensed less vehemence, it would mean they were ready for the big leap in the unknown.  
**  
To Be Continued...**


	11. Forgotten Kiss

**"Forgotten Kiss"**

Okay, so I decided it was the last installment. I had said it would be and although it breaks my heart to stop, I think the is the right time for me to do so. I had decided that the story would not only be a series of random kisses and one-shots, but that it would build up towards a resolution of sorts. This last chapter is between the episodes 5x15 and 5x16, thus during the whole 99/100 arch. I know I did not write the girly conversation between Ange and Bones in the previous chapter, but I preferred to use an ellipse You'll see why. I hope you like this last chapter. I can't even believe I wrote the last four chapters in two days lol. I really wanted to finish it. And I gotta say that the credit goes to a great Bones fan I got to know better lately and who inspired me with her stories. Ce qui ne veut pas dire que je ne crois plus à ma théorie :D. And, to the fact that I still don't have my internet connection as I am writing, it prevents me from wandering aimlessly around the web and have me stay focused :p.

Disclaimer: This is not mine, although since we're over a month and an half away from the airing of 99/100, all speculation is totally mine. After all, I'm part of the test audience. So are you guys, actually. Which makes of you awesome people.

********************

They had received an enigmatic call from Sweets early this morning. Booth feared it would be because he was looking for advice concerning his marriage proposal. He had gone through all this with Hodgins, he really did not want to do that again. Not that he was entirely hermetic to the idea of cheesy romanticism but not with Sweets, because he would undoubtedly try to read into it. He was not unaware of anything anyway... But why calling Bones then? He shuddered. Something was going to happen. He hesitated an instant between pretending to be stuck in the traffic or saying Parker had the flu. Yeah, too late.

- "Hey Booth. You know what Sweets wants?"

She had spotted him in the hallway. She did not look alarmed, merely curious. Maybe he should watch himself, he did not want his nervousness to transpire on her, it would only complicate things.

- "No idea. But I hope it's not about Daisy."

When they made their way in the psychologist's office, he gave them a smile that Booth identified immediately as a poor attempt to conceal some sick plan. Yep, something was up. Now he could pretend to receive a call from Rebecca.

- "Dr Brennan, Agent Booth, please have a seat."

His manners irritated Booth, who threw himself on the couch to emphasize his disapprobation.

- "What do you want Sweets?"

That was going to be difficult. Not that he had expected things to go smoothly. It never did with them. That was why he had come to like them. Love them, even. He got up, seizing two heavy manuscripts on his desk before handing them to his patients slash friends.

- "I'd like you to read this."

Booth frowned, weighing the manuscript before throwing it on the coffee table.

- "No way. Too heavy. Prescribe graphic novels and I'll see what I can do."

Sweets smiled. At that moment he knew Booth had understood the reason why he had made them come there. So he decided to outwit the agent by striking where he remained helplessly weak.

- "Dr Brennan, would you please read out loud the contents of page 365?"

With that he smirked. Booth's fingers felt itchy, if only he had his gun. Then glancing towards his partner, he realized that maybe his fears were unfounded. She was clueless, Sweets would not be that stupid. He would not force _that _upon her. She was so adorable, searching for the right page without questioning the psychologist's motives. Always the good girl. Damn, he loved her so much.

- "Alright...'Subjects A and B have experienced varying occurrences of abusive treatment but the psychological impact on their emotional development was identical. Both developed a high degree of mistrust towards their peers.' Should I continue?"

Oh damn. That was going to be some introspective shit about their childhood? He had made himself clear, hadn't he? No more talk about his old man. And certainly not in front of Bones. He gave Sweets a death glare. But the young man did not look at him, focused on Bones' reactions.

- "Yes, please, continue."

She nodded.

- "Their neurosis found antagonistic ways to express themselves in adulthood. Subject A favored denial while subject B chose to channel the rage subsequent to the treatment received during childhood.' Sweets where are you going with this? I don't understand."

He gave her a reassuring smile, rapidly glancing towards Booth. He was fuming with rage. Yeah, his analysis was up to the point. Although it was to early to praise himself. He would have to survive to this session first.

- "Please, keep reading."

She sighed, apparently losing patience. It seemed the meaning of what she read was slowly making its way through her emotionally clouded brain.

- "This places both subjects A and B in a position of constant need to control their environment and a constant fear to experience a level of pain comparable to that which they endured in childhood. But that also places them in a delicate condition towards one another. Subject B, in control of his emotions is subjected to the fear of reproducing parental assault by asserting feelings over subject A. While subject A is reluctant to accept dependence due to a traumatic experience of abandonment. Both share a fear of commitment rooted in childhood trauma, but both share a deep need for the other, due to the similarity of their experiences. They represent for the other a healthy derivative from lifelong trauma and their acceptance of that fact would prove highly beneficial...' Sweets who are subjects A and B?"

She was frowning, visibly confused. That achieved to upset Booth. Sweets observed that he was taking his threatening posture, projecting his body forward.

- "What the hell are you doing, Sweets? I thought it was not the right time!"

He had expected threats, insults. Not such a display of insecurity. This showed him how sensitive the issue was for Booth and made him determined to help. Concerned that he might have pushed too far, he gave him a knowing smile.

- "It is the right time, trust me."

Bones eyed them both, even more confused as she felt left out of their conversation. If only she knew that she was the main subject of this whole thing...

- "What is the right time? What are you talking about?"

Booth ignored her.

- "It better damn well be. Otherwise you're a dead man."

Ah! There was the threat. That reassured Sweets, who chose to ignore the comment to focus on Brennan. He knew this might take some time, but they were getting where he wanted them to.

- "Dr Brennan, subjects A and B are you and Agent Booth."

She instantaneously turned her eyes on Booth, checking on his own reaction. So he was aware of that? He did not look surprised. Instinctively, she tried to change the subject.

- "This is your book? I thought we weren't supposed to read it."

Sweets smiled. Of course she would do that.

- "I considered publication and need your consent. But this is not why we're here."

- "Why else if you want us to review your manuscript?"

As she made a mocking face, he wondered if she only pretended not to understand what was going on. With her, nothing ever surprised him. When he looked at Booth, he realized he was not the only one asking himself that question. He took a breath, determined to bring her into focus.

- "What you read, Dr Brennan, is the conclusion I drew after two years of daily observations. What is your opinion? Do you consider my analysis to be biased?"

- "Psychology is biased by definition."

No, she was conscious. Her defensive process was on. He would have to be faster than her to prevent her from installing her usual emotional autism. He would have to push her. He was convinced it was the right time, no matter how agitated Booth seemed to be. He knew, it was his job to know this type of things. More than that, they were his friends, he would never risk their relationship without being sure.

- "Yes, but besides that... Do you consider that subjects A and B are reasonable representations of you and Agent Booth?"

Always practical, she frowned, processing the information.

- "Your representation seems highly archetypal if you consider that what draws Booth and I together lies only in our dysfunctional childhoods."

Booth smiled bitterly. He did not know what she meant, but he knew that she would most likely choose denial, shut him out and that meant Sweets had ruined months of slow but secure strategic moves towards her. God if only he had his gun...

- "See Sweets? You're dead."

Bones made a face; he had not talked to her since they had entered Sweets office. Why did he keep ignoring her to threaten the psychologist? There seemed to be an understanding between them and she did not like the idea of being kept out of it.

- "Booth why are you upset? Don't you agree with me?"

He did not dare to look at her; if he did, he feared he would be unable to conceal his frustration. He did not want her to think it was directed to her. All this was Sweet's damn fault.

- "Sure Bones."

Instead he kept on greeting Sweets with his bitter, threatening smile. That did not influence the young man, still determined to solve this problem. He had caused it, in Booth's opinion - he knew- but in his opinion what had caused it was years of intense denial. As a psychologist he could not caution denial. He would not.

- "Alright, Dr Brennan. Would you please now read page 385 and comment it for me?"

Now she was getting annoyed. She looked at Booth again, looking for advice, but he did not return her look. What was with him? He seemed so tensed. His jaw was contracting at a regular interval. She felt like touching his arm, ask him what was wrong, but she suppressed that need. Instead she focused her own tension on Sweets.

- "You might as well tell us what's your point, Sweets. I don't see the interest of reading your book to you when you know exactly what this is going to be about. Unless you have some ego issues you want to address."

Her last line made Booth smile. This was what she had wanted to do. Sweets noticed her efforts and that reinforced his conviction that this was the right moment for them both to confront their feelings. Yep, the best moment. Maybe the only moment.

- "This is not about me, Dr Brennan. My 40 pages long conclusion reviews a set of reasons -among which childhood trauma, but not exclusively- enjoining you and Agent Booth to accept the fact that you are greatly dependent on each other. This dependence, is the psychological definition one gives to love."

There, he had said it. It would either break or... Yeah, it had to break. He could see apprehension forming in Booth's eyes when he said the word. Brennan was not long to react.

- "Is that why Angela harassed me about Andy Lister being Booth, yesterday?"

Yes. Damn, she was smart. Angela had had her "water testing" conversation with her the previous day and had made a detailed report to Sweets as to why they were ready. For a second he doubted their joint conclusion. No. They _were_ ready. Booth frowned, now _he_ felt left out.

- "What?"

Sweets chose to ignore him again. And to lie again. Well, not so much lie, rather install a climate of trust by omitting to mention certain details. Like... a relational conspiracy.

- "No, Dr Brennan. But I would be interested to know what happened with Angela."  
She looked down, now extremely upset.

- "She read that scene on page 287. I was unsure of its necessity and I asked for her opinion. She always counseled me concerning the romantic dynamic of Andy and Kathy. And she told me this was autobiographic. It's not. I am a fiction writer! And apparently, so are you, Sweets."

Sweets knew to which scene she was referring, and so did Booth. So when she stormed out of the room, the agent was close from strangling the psychologist.

- "I'm gonna end you, Sweets. You're the one who told me not to say anything that might unsettle her!"

His menacing attitude did not unsettle Sweets, still focused. He felt that wherever Brennan had gone, she would not be far. She had escaped, yes, but her escape was as limited as her denial. It looked as though she had put her last elements of contradiction into that statement. She did not believe in her reasoning anymore. She was definitely ready.

- "You do know what scene of her book she was referring to, right?"

Booth nodded. Yes, he had come across her manuscript one evening during the past week. She had always made clear that she did not want him to peek before her work was completed; but he had overheard a conversation between her and her editor, who had advised her to give a new dimension to her characters relationship. He had found that dramatically ironic. Not so much now. Sensing his discomfort, Sweets tried to be reassuring.

- "Booth, she is ready. She needed a push. She is in love with you, but if she keep denying that fact it might be very detrimental to your relationship, both professionally and personally."

Such assertiveness only achieved to make Booth more uncomfortable. How could the psychologist be so sure, when he, who was the one involved in that mess, had no idea of what was going to happen?

- "Why now?"

- "Angela and I saw you kissing in the Jeffersonian parking lot two weeks ago. We... observed your behavior and I concluded it was the right time."

That explained a lot of things. Why he and Angela had spent so much time together, talking in weird codes and using innuendos. Hey, wait a minute, was he even going to propose to Daisy? That's not the kind of thing to use as cover-up. Yeah, whatever, there was worse right now.

- "So Angela is involved..."

Booth seemed defeated. That was something Sweets hated to see, especially when there was no reason for it.

- "Yes. Booth, listen, I would never have done it if I had considered it might jeopardize your relationship. You have to trust me."

This seemed to appease Booth finally. He trusted Sweets judgment as much as his own. What he disliked was the idea to have been used and observed without his consent. But that issue would be settled later. Now, all he cared for was Bones. Where was she? He should not even stay there, he should be running after her. But what if he did and she shut him out again? God...

- "You knew about that scene in her book too, right?"

- "Angela told me about it this morning, why?"

Sweets frowned when Booth's concern returned suddenly. There was one detail he had omitted in his equation, or that he ignored. Most likely he ignored it. Hopefully that would not ruin his theory. If it did.. Booth shut his eyes before he started to speak; rubbing his temple.

- "It happened. Like, a month ago. We had drinks and... she said she loved me. Well, she did not say it but when I asked her she answered yes. I thought she had forgotten. When I read that scene five days ago... I was not supposed to read it, okay? I had decided to wait until the publication of her book. If it was still there, then it would have meant that she was ready. That she wanted me to know she remembered, you see?"

He waited for Sweets reaction. He did not look surprised. He simply nodded, biting his lower lip and reflecting upon what he had just heard.

- "Alright. Then you need to confront her now. This is not going to be easy but you have to be firm. She will most likely favor denial. Do not let her. Go find her, and do it."

His tone was definitive. Booth got up instantly, reaching for the door. He realized that he was this kid's toy and the thought did not miss to irritate him. So just before leaving, as a warning, he raised his hand.

- "Sweets, if you screwed us up..."

The psychologist nodded, ironically acknowledging the usual threat.

- "I know, I'm dead."

With that the door closed behind Booth and Sweets sighed loudly. Gosh, that better be working.

*****************

He headed for the parking lot first, hoping she had not left the building. She had not, her Toyota was still parked in her usual spot. He wondered if she would have been upset enough to leave without her car. After all, D.C was not immensely stretched, she might have decided to go back to the lab on foot. But if she was still there and he left, that would create a gap that would be hard to close when he would finally find her. So, just in case, he got to his office. His agitation did not miss to raise the attention of his co-workers, but he did not care, he had to find her.  
When he saw her sitting in the visitor's chair facing his desk, he sighed. Sweets was right, she was ready. She had not escaped. But that did not prevent him from being extra cautious when he entered his office. To him she was like a wild, fragile creature that the smallest mistake could break.

- "Bones..."

Her head was bent, she was playing with her hands. She would not look at him. He knew why and he knew he should not force his gaze on her, so he sat beside her, facing the wall. Her embarrassment would fade if she did not feel he was watching her.

- "You think they're right?"

What could he answer? There was no more time for lies. Sweets had been clear, and he was right. He had to confront her. Confronting her meant saying the truth.

- "Yes."

Such a simple word, and yet that meant so much. It meant he believed that they loved each other, that they should be together, that they were meant to be. Simply. She sighed, still focused on her hands.

- "I didn't forget."

He frowned.

- "What?"

- "That evening last month. I pretended I had forgotten because I was ashamed of my behavior. This is the scene Angela and I argued about yesterday. In that scene, Kathy and Andy share drinks and... Kathy loses control over her tongue. Literally and figuratively. That was true, Angela was right. It was you and me. I don't know why I decided to write it. It was probably the same reason that motivated me to write that novel while you were in a coma. I suppose it was easier to use this fictional safety valve to express my desires than to ask myself those questions."

She was not denying. She was exposing her innermost truth. The completeness of the instant scared Booth. Now, he felt he was not ready. What could he answer? What was going to happen to them now that she was admitting something she had fought for so long? Something he had fought even longer? What if she did not want anything out of that truth?

- "You don't have to..."

This last protest was interrupted by Bones' gaze, finally on him. She smiled.

- "I need to Booth. I can't find any more excuses. I just need time to... process things."

He smiled back. She wanted something out of the truth. She just had to figure out what she wanted exactly. He would help her do that. He would do anything.

- "Alright."

They sat there, silently reviewing the past hour. The past months. Everything seemed to click, each random smile, touch, kiss. It suddenly formed a whole that summarized what they were to each other. Everything. They were everything to each other, and that did not even scare her. When he reached for her hand, she felt bald.

- "I need you to say it, too."

He chuckled, observing their entwined fingers. If it was not so utterly important, he would tease her by pretending not to know what she expected to hear. But he knew. She needed time and facts. He would give her both.

- "I love you, Bones."

He did not hope for an answer just now. But it felt damn good to say it.

**The End**


	12. Epilogue: Feverish Kiss

**EPILOGUE: Feverish Kiss**

On the way to his apartment she had rehearsed a speech of sorts; well... not really a speech, she did not want to sound formal but it is just that, practicing somehow made her anguish disappear. Somehow, only. For, when she knocked on his door, she felt her heart was in her socks. Not literally, she was not wearing any socks but... Yeah, she was really not good with metaphors. She wondered how he would react. The past weeks had been chaotic, complex. Despite their common agreement to process the new configuration of their relationship, nothing had seemed to evolve and she realized that it was mostly her fault. So she had decided that was time for her, to make a decision. He had said he would wait, he had said he understood. That was so much like him. The thought made her smile. He was caring, patient, soft, tender... It seems there were not enough adjectives to qualify him. She realized her lack for objectivity for obviously, no one was that perfect, but to her, it seemed he was. Maybe that was what it meant to be in love. Lacking for perspective, objectivity, consciousness simply. She did not mind. She had had enough of that already and she wanted to see how it felt to let everything go. She wanted to abandon herself instead of being afraid of abandonment.

When he opened the door, she saw there was something out of place. He did not look at her the way he used to. His brows were slightly furrowed. She ignored what it meant but she supposed that it was because she had not called before coming. Plus she felt that her own expression certainly was as puzzling as his. So she gave him a timid smile.

- "I need to talk to you."

What alarmed her was when he did not motion to let her come in. Generally, he did not even wait for her to say a word before inviting her in. There, he stood, almost frozen on the threshold of his apartment. She did not like it.

- "Well, sure Bones...I..."

Then it all clicked when a voice emerged from inside the place.

- "Where do you keep your glasses?"

She recognized the voice. Or at least it seemed familiar. Wasn't that the fish lady? What was she doing there at... 11pm? When she put all the pieces together, and saw Booth's face turn into an awkward, apologetic expression, she felt her throat tighten. All of a sudden, every word she had intended to say melted in a chaos of fear, disappointment and distrust. Afraid that he might notice anything, she instantly put on her best aloof face; at least she tried.

- "I didn't know you had company. I'm sorry."

She wanted to run, run out, puke, cry. She did not know. She was feeling dizzy, losing balance. She had not felt that in a long time. The last time was when she had learned he had a brain tumor. The firs time was when she had paced around her house for hours with her brother, trying to contact their parents who had not come back from Christmas shopping after twelve interminable hours. She felt that she was alone in the world.  
When she started to walk towards the staircase, she felt something grabbing her wrist. He was trying to hold her back. His damned apologetic face still on. Seeing him, she could put words on her feelings, she felt cheated, tainted. She felt that the innermost of her trust in him was suddenly damaged. And although she knew it was unlike her, she let herself being transported, carried away by her emotions. Like a tsunami of unwanted feelings.

- "No, Bones, wait..."

He was pleading. She would not let him. She would not let him see that he got to her, that he succeeded in breaking her shell. He would not see she was crying. So she tried to avoid eye contact, but her voice betrayed her.

- "I'm sorry I disturbed you."

With that she set herself free from his grasp and this time, she walked faster; fast enough to be away from him before he understood what was happening. When she knew she was out of his sight, she ran. On the way she lost the keys to her car. His goddamned street was as well lit as a cave; might as well try to find a needle in a stack of hay. Where were her keys?  
She was mad at herself. Why had she let him in? Why on earth had she let him destroy what she had carefully built during 15 years of constant emotional control and mastering. She had worked so hard to shelter herself from pain, to compartmentalize, as she would say. She had learned not to rely on emotional attachment, not to rely on other persons. She had known very early on in her life that the only constant was the self. But he had made his way in, like a damn snake. Slowly, but surely. He had made his way in the remotest corners of her life and her brain. He was everywhere, every inch of herself was something he had grazed. She hated that. Oblivious to the irony of time, she had forgotten that ten minutes before, the same idea made her happier than she had ever been. Now she hated him too. She hated how he had infiltrated her existence. How he had not given her a choice, how he had seduced her into surrendering her individuality. And where the hell were her keys?

- "Bones..."

Of course he would come down. Of course he would try to play the usual knight in shiny armor stunt. What had he told the fish lady? That he would be right back? That he had something to take care of? Maybe he had told her to wait for him in the bathtub. The idea made her cringe. Despite her sudden hatred, the shadow of lingering jealousy would not go. She could not control her emotions, not when she had decided to strip naked a mere ten minutes before, and expose her innermost being to him. She was naked, just now. Stripped of her common sense, of her defenses. She was helpless.  
When he saw her, kneeling in front of her car, he feared at first that she had gotten sick. He was feeling terrible, worse than that. He would rather die, than to see her cry. If someone else had done to her what he was doing, he would have killed them. He knelt beside her, grabbing her shoulder to make her look at him. But she pushed him back, he almost lost his balance. Then she got up and he followed; yes, she was crying. He wanted to die.

- "I had learned. I knew. I should have known. It's just... It's all your fault. You made me forget. You made me vulnerable. I shouldn't have let you. I should never have."

He knew exactly what she was trying to say. He had spent enough time, trying to make her understand that with him, she could let herself be vulnerable because, after all, he was there to protect her from harm. He was there. All the time. Even now, when he knew she did not want him. His guilt was becoming unbearable, he had to do something. So he made a step forward, to take her in his arms, but she pushed him, open hands on his chest. When he realized her attempt to get rid of him was weak, he insisted.

- "No, Booth. It's your fault."

And she ended up in his arms, her head buried in his chest as he whispered.

- "I know."

He knew. Of course. He had been the architect of all this, he had made her softer than she could stand and the sadistic irony of life was that he may have destroyed what he had created. So instinctively trying to make up for it, he enveloped her with all his love. Slowly rocking her, making slow, soothing circles with his thumbs on her back. Silently trying to make this hurt go away, although he knew it would take much more than that. Feeling her sobbing against him made him feel miserable, incapable, inadequate. Worse than that, he felt her inner contradiction playing out right in front of him, there, against his very skin. She accompanied her uncontrollable sobs with a frantic grip on his t-shirt. It felt as though she was afraid to let go as much as she was attempting to hurt him. He did not know what else to do, so he just said what he thought would appear pathetically out of place, yet indispensable for him to say.

- "I love you."

He felt her stiffen as soon as the words came out of his mouth; her grip suddenly loosening and her desire to escape from his embrace more pressing. But he resisted once more, holding onto her with both despair and determination. After a few seconds, her resistance ceased and she clang to him again. He wanted her to know that he would never let go, and there was no better way. She knew he was trying to assert his power over her by doing that, but she simply had no strength to contradict him. She was submerged by a contradictory sense of security, in the arms of a man she hated. Or did she hate him, really? Well, did he love her, really? What words could possibly mean anyway? She was not responsive to words, only to his reassuring, familiar scent. She hated herself, but her weakness took over her. Until the words ruined it all again.

- "Shhh, I'm here."

Her resentment, all her fears came back instantly. He was lying to her! He was holding her, like another promise and he was lying! She felt like punching him. She remembered that one time in the past, when she had punched her frustration away, and recalled that it had not be as satisfying as she would have thought. No, she preferred to escape. Go back home, somewhere, someplace and just... forget. Cry, puke, run away. She fought her way out of his embrace, wiping her eyes with anger. Seeing herself, she hated him all the more. He had transformed her into _that_. Weak, pathetic, crying, clinging to him, needy, stupid woman.

- "It's because of things like that. You weakened me with all that. Stop it. I don't want you to paternalize me again."

The anger and resentment in her voice made his throat tighten. Desperate, he took another step forward, involuntarily blocking her between him and her car.

- "I'm not paternalizing you. I love you."

- "Stop saying that!"

He had whispered, she had shouted. He did not know if there would be a way out of this. The nightmarish possibility that it was the last time he ever spoke to her made him sick. He took a breath, trying to recompose himself. He would plead until she heard, he promised himself. He would get down on his knees, but he would not let her go. When he looked at her, hatred and disappointment clouding her eyes, he wondered why she was not kicking her way out of his grip and he realized that everything was not lost. If she had wanted to, he would be holding his crotch right now, lying on the sidewalk. So he drew closer, putting his hands on each side of her.

- "I know you're afraid..."

He was trying to win time, nothing more. He did not really know if she was afraid. She had been her whole life, but lately it seemed she had been more fierce.

- "I'm not afraid, I'm hurt, Booth. You hurt me. You made me believe I could trust you."

- "You can trust me."

He felt horrible saying that, knowing perfectly that she would not believe him. Yet it was true. She could trust him with her heart, her life. With every parcel of her being. He would never, ever let go. But he had done _that_. He had slipped, once. Maybe there was no making up for it. But he would try all the same. He had to. She was the single most important thing in his life; if she disappeared, nothing would make sense anymore.

- "Let me go, Booth."

- "I can't."

She felt the urge to tell him that he could, he only had to get his hands off of her car and get the hell out of her way. But she felt that if she went away now, she would never come back and, strangely, she did not want it to be the last time she ever saw Seeley Booth. She broke eye contact, leaning against her car, looking down. Lost, literally.

- "Go back upstairs. She's waiting for you."

- "I'm waiting for you."

She frowned. What the hell was he trying to say? He knew she hated metaphors, she seldom understood them. She liked things to be true, to be real, not to be clothed with linguistic devices.

- "It doesn't make any sense."

He felt like his whole life was reduced to a race he could not win. He had to find the necessary resources to convince her and he knew more than anyone else that if she resolved to it, there could be no convincing her at all. After all, her legendary stubbornness was another of the reasons why he was so madly in love with her. Then it clicked. He knew what to say.

- "You remember, that evening, years ago... We had closed a case on those beauty pageant contestants, we were gathering our notes at the lab, eating those doughnuts..."

- "Yes, I remember. What?"

She crossed her arms, visibly losing patience; but seeing her willing to participate in the conversation made him hope. He would convince her.

- "That evening, I realized I was in love with you. I remember the exact instant when I realized it. It scared the crap out of me, because I didn't know what it would do to us. I didn't know if I could live with it. So I just let it flow. I let time strengthen us. I wanted you to trust me. I wanted to protect you."

Tears filled her eyes again. Not because his words made any sense, but because she resented his stubborn attempt at convincing her that he deserved to be trusted. She had in the past, what had it given her? Those tears? Pain?

- "You won. I trust you. What do I get from that, aside from disappointment?"

He sighed.

- "When Cathy... I felt frustrated. After that day when Sweets made you read his book... I just...I didn't know if I had been right to wait for you. I didn't know if you wanted anything from me at all. At least, not like that. Not like I wanted you."

She had never heard her first name before. She did not even remember what was her family name. How long had he seen her? Since the case, probably. It had been a month. He had lied for a month. He had told her he loved her and he had lied for a month. Why? Because he thought she did not want anything? Hadn't she made herself clear? She had told him she needed time. Apparently she had overestimated his patience. But why hadn't he asked anything? Said anything? She had always considered that there should be no silence, no fear between them. It was the utmost component of their partnership to her. Of their relationship. There was not a thing he ignored about her. That meant it was different for him. That meant he did not trust her as much as she trusted him. She felt like crying again. How could he love her, if he did not trust her?

- "Why didn't you just ask?"

He looked desperate. Despite her resentment, she could not help that feeling of empathy from invading her heart. She was hurting him, as much as he had hurt her. That was no more satisfying than a punch. Nor was her desire to escape. Nothing could satisfy her. She was trapped by his love, trapped by her own weakness.

- "I was scared. I mean... I trapped myself in that situation, right? Waiting... All those years. Being dependable, reliable. I knew it would turn against me, but I had to do it. I didn't want to rush you. All those years... What we became to each other, it's just... too important. See the irony? I waited because I wanted you to know that you could trust me; and when you did trust me it became impossible to endanger it all."

She did not see the irony, because she had wanted as much as he had wanted out of this, out of them. She had accepted to "endanger it all" because she thought that he wanted it too. He had told her he wanted to! Hadn't he? Her throat tightened again. Betrayal was impossible to process. She had erased it from her system when her parents had abandoned her.

- "So you decided it was better as it was? You dangled all those promises in front of me, you made me believe in it and you decided it was enough?"

She was nearly shouting again; this time he joined her. Incapable to control that familiar sensation of frustration seizing him.

- "I never decided it was enough. I thought you didn't want it."

His tone startled her. He had been patiently whispering to her all the truth he had within himself, and now he was done waiting. The parallel between their situation and his attitude struck her. He was done waiting. She had made him wait too long. She had thought he could wait indefinitely. But he did not... He moved on. Anger started to invade her, jealousy. Once more, she did not fight either of these emotions, she let them wash over her, transport her.

- "So you decided to settle for a more sociable version of me?"

- "When you decided to settle for a more bureaucratic version of me, you mean?"

There was defiance in his eyes and she remembered. Andrew. She had not cared, at all. Ever. She had seen him because she wanted to be sure that what she was feeling for Booth was different. That it was not mere physical attraction, that it meant something. And it did. Andrew had been an experiment, nothing more. So this was what this was all about? Andrew? He had tried to make her jealous by retaliating?

- "Is this what it's all about? Andrew? You wanted to make me jealous?"

- "I don't know what I wanted! I wanted you! But I didn't know how to deal with it anymore! You drove me fucking crazy! Crazy with jealousy, with frustration!"

He was louder this time, but she only stared back. She was confused, feeling the weight of her own responsibility in that whole situation. If he had been the architect of her weaknesses, she had been the architect of his fears. All of it. Could he ever forgive her? As she observed him, his expression softened, for he realized he had hit the right spot. He had convinced her. His need for her overcame all his senses and started to lean forward to kiss her; but he stopped when he saw her gaze shift towards something behind them. Instinctively, he looked there. Only to realize that Dr Klein... Cathy, was there, watching them. How long had she been there? She was smiling, sympathetically. Yeah, she had probably been there long enough.

- "You should continue this discussion upstairs, your neighbors are going to call the cops."

Bones instantly frowned at what she considered to be a stupid comment. Was that woman really a doctor? If she was physically attractive, following certain criterion, she was certainly not bright. She pointed her index towards Booth, they were so close that she could touch him, simply by extending her hand. When she realized that, she took a step back, only to be reminded that she was leaning against her car. She wondered what that little scene looked like, from the outside.

- "Booth is a cop."

The doctor smiled again, was that sympathy?

- "You're right, but still. I think you should get back upstairs. Plus I left the door open, I didn't know if you had your keys."

With that she gave them both a last smile and made her way to her car. They stood there, frozen, and watched her drive off. It was surrealistic, romantic-comedy like. Yet it happened. After a few seconds, Booth looked at his partner, trapped in his embrace. She was still watching the traffic, still confused.

- "You wanna go back upstairs?"

He feared his boldness would seem incongruous, but she simply nodded, without returning his gaze. He bit his lower lip, determined not to let her slip into silence. Not now that he was close from... From what exactly? He had no idea, but he knew they were saved. To make sure, he grabbed her hand to lead her inside his building. She did not resist. Lucky he believed in signs.

There walk towards his apartment was quiet, he felt as though each of their movement was in slow-motion. He hated silence, always had, always would. Probably because it seemed too empty, too unpredictable. Probably because through silence, he could not read into her as he usually would. Now he desperately needed to read into her. He had no effing idea of what to say. Yes, she was holding his hand -or rather, he was holding hers. Yes, she was slightly leaning onto him but it might as well be out of weariness, or habit. None of the usual references he would use to make his way into her brain worked now. Not after he had almost broken her. She was his personal china doll, priceless, unique and so utterly fragile.  
When they reached his door, slightly open, she made her way in without a look. She simply took her hand back. Not harshly, she just... let it slip out of his grasp and she disappeared inside. When he joined her after having locked the door, he saw she was sitting on the couch. It seemed pathetic for him to smile for such a detail but when he saw that she was sitting on the same spot as she always did, he felt reassured. Some things did not change. Nothing _would_ change. Except that she was still not looking at him, she was staring ahead, absently. He recognized her gaze -he had called it her "lost little girl" gaze. Usually he could make it go away with a joke, or a smile. It would not be that simple now. So he sat beside her, waiting to find something to say that might do the trick. But there was nothing. Nothing seemed relevant, or up-to-the-point.

- "You wanna drink something?"

Great. Well, at least he had put an end to this unbearable silence. She just shook her head, still staring at that invisible chaos she seemed to be fighting, her brows slightly furrowed as though from concentration. She was processing.

- "You had dinner?"

She shook her head again. Was he trying to reinstall some sort of casual relationship or exchange between them? She did not know. She just needed to think. Review all the things they had said in the past half hour and discover the hidden meaning of it all. His constantly interrupting her was not helping. But his insistence reminded her of an important fact, he was there. They were both there, where she had wanted them to be when she had decided to talk to him earlier tonight. They had hurt each other, undoubtedly, but they were there. Nothing had changed or moved, it seemed. She felt foolish not to be mad anymore, nor to feel betrayed. It was all gone the second she realized he had only responded to determinism. She had hurt him, made him wait, made him wonder and he had lost patience, lost balance. She had been the cause of these effects. She had created that situation. She had had fears, doubts and it had taken over her desires and feelings for too long. She wondered how he had succeeded in waiting for so long, without losing his mind. She could not have.

- "I came tonight to tell you I loved you."

Her gaze finally met his as she said those words he had prayed for, longed for, yearned for. It took him some seconds to realize that she had said it out loud. It seemed too good to be true. Yet she had said it. Not that he had doubted the depth of her feelings, seeing her recent behavior, but her saying it equaled her acknowledging it, accepting it. Now what could he say, not to damage this awakening? He had already done too much. What could he do? Take her in his arms again? Kiss her? She answered herself, resuming her speech –a speech much different than what she had rehearsed, hours before. It actually seemed to her that their fight had served a larger purpose; that of putting her doubts in perspective.

- "... I had weighted pros and cons and decided that it was okay. All the things you said earlier about our relationship strengthening over time and your overly protective behavior towards me, those were both the con and pro elements that bothered me the most. I shared your fear of endangering a perfectly functional relationship, but in balance, I had you... A dependable man who had never betrayed me. I guess I was scared of betrayal my whole life, but I never was with you. This is why tonight I realized it was not necessarily a negative thing to put myself in a weak position by telling you I needed you. You had made me need you. You were the architect of all this."

He felt his heart melt with the need to take her in his arms, shelter her again, make her feel that she could need him always. But he fought that urge when she chuckled. It was a disillusioned, bitter laugh; something he was not used to. She resumed speaking again, now focusing her gaze on her hands, almost shameful to have given so much of her thoughts, of herself.

- "...I have never been particularly apt to discern irony in the past, but here I believe it applies. I come to tell you I know you won't betray me and you do, right in front of me."

She needed to say it. Even though it seemed to her that this betrayal was the result of a series of misunderstandings, the idea that the person she trusted the most could be out of her reach, out of her perception while she considered he did not ignore a thing of her... That idea unsettled her. So she did not seek revenge, or forgiveness; she simply wanted to be reassured. He felt it in her voice, so he knelt in front of her and put his hands on her thighs. The intimacy of his gesture made her shiver slightly, he would always have that effect on her, she thought. No matter how chaotic things were, his presence, his attention made everything else irrelevant.

- "Bones, I did not betray you. I never could. You're the most important, the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me."

She frowned. The elementary beauty of his declaration made no sense. Was that another linguistic device? She knew she was not the most beautiful and most important thing in his life.

- "What about Parker?"

He smiled, obviously she would say that. She had issues understanding the concept of love on different levels. At least, she did not call him a liar when he declared he had not betrayed her. It was true, he had not; he knew it. But his awareness of the fact meant nothing if she did not believe it too. If she did... Then it meant that she was ready to accept the fullness of his love, with its flaws and inconsistencies.

- "It's not the same thing. Parker is my flesh. He's a part of me literally. You are a part of me on a different level. You're in my blood."

- "It's impossible. It's... It's metaphoric, right?"

She loved the warmth of his smile, when she grasped the meaning of his words. This particular smile made her feel loved, understood, awaited. This was because of that smile that she had decided to let her guard down and simply... accept the inevitability of their common fate. If there was such a thing as fate. Which there most likely was not, but still. She accepted him in as something that could never be otherwise, however illogical that might look.

- "Yes. Look... Catherine means nothing. No one ever meant anything since that evening I realized I was in love with you."

He was pleading, it seemed. She wondered why. She had accepted the truth of his statement long before he even said it, she was past anger now. But she still had issues with the logic of his behavior. He had tried to send her a message by seeing this woman? Her first assumption was that he had tried to make her jealous, then she had feared that he had simply lost patience and decided that he could find someone else. But that bothered her. He, who had spent so much time telling her that people left metaphoric marks on each other; had he erased her mark? He said he loved her. It just made no sense.

- "Then why seeing her at all? Where's the logic in that? If you love me..."

He sighed, staring at his hands. He realized he was caressing her knees with his thumbs. Touching her was something so natural to him usually, but right then it felt as though he was crossing an invisible boundary. He felt like he had no right; so he stopped. He could not touch her until she was certain, convinced, that he deserved it.

- "I told you. I was frustrated, and confused. You knew I loved you and you just... You didn't do anything about it. You dated Andrew."

Impatience and jealousy, then. It was both of it. But hadn't she told him she was almost there? Almost where he wanted them to be? She had made herself clear, no?

- "I needed time to process things!"

- "With Andrew?"

His words were soft, never tainted with anger. That helped her realize that she had not been as clear as she had thought. How pathetic? She was a logical empiricist, clarity of speech was a _sine qua non _condition in her professional life. Why couldn't it be the same when it came to personal matters? Her mouth slightly opened as this truth dawned upon her.

- "There isn't any more logic in that than in your seeing the fish lady after you said you loved me, right?"

He loved everything about her, that second. Her adorable nose when she made that face; her way not to remember names. Well, he was glad she did not remember _that_ name. Shit, he had been such an asshole with that woman too. He would have to call her to apologize and explain... Not that he thought she needed further explanations after what she had probably seen. Anyway, he did not want to think about that just then. Not when he and Bones were closer than they had ever been. When they had been so close from becoming strangers to one another, merely fifteen minutes prior. He tried the charm smile to see if she would respond or not.

- "We're usually very logic people, aren't we?"

She did instantly respond, unable to stop the birth of a smile of her own.

- "Well, I am. You're not, most of the time. So I suppose it means my lack for logic threw you out of balance and forced you to reconsider your position."

He made a face.

- "If that means what I think it means in plain English, yes. I tried, pathetically, to hurt you back. Not really hurt you... I could never even think of it. I just wanted..."

She interrupted him. It made sense now. He _had_ tried to send her a message.

- "To provoke an epiphany? It's sort of a waste of time. I'm quite adept at figuring things out on my own. I did, actually, figure it out on my own."

It was true, after all, hadn't she come to his place to tell him she knew? Well, his message did have the effect he expected, it had made her consider certain things in a different way. But she had already come to grips with most of it before he forced her to face it all. He smiled, mostly because her comment reflected her good old self.

- "If you had not, you would not be Bones."

- "I would be Catherine?"

Another charm smile on. She_ had_ received his pathetic, yet indispensable message.

- "I did make you jealous, didn't I?"

She frowned. Hadn't she made that clear? All the shouting, the crying, the reproaches; that certainly meant something, right? Or was she really a lost cause to personal logic?

- "Of course! You deliberately chose a light version of me! It was comparable to asserting that you could find other types of me -although pale in comparison- and that you did not need me!"

Yes, his good old Bones was back. He had two choices, either he played the romantic card and put an emphasis on how much he needed her, or he furthered those painfully necessary explanations, so that no doubt would subside between them. He chose the latter. Better be safe than sorry, he thought.

- "Andrew..."

- "What, Andrew?"

He gave her his best sympathetic, paternalistic smile. She instantly felt foolish not to understand where he was going exactly. Jealousy again? They had covered that topic already, no? Well, they had covered her side of the story. Not his.

- "Another type of me, pale in comparison..."

Yes, they would have to cover his side of the story. He was about to get her to confess that she had been the cause of all this. But not just yet. She did not want to surrender; mainly because her instinct of contradiction was stronger than her common sense. Well, tonight all her senses were upside down anyway.

- "But I was afraid of endangering both our well-beings. What's your excuse?"

He frowned, was that him or was her protest really shallow? She was admitting, without words, that she knew she had played a role in that mess. That was a first. So, he decided it was time for him to play his last card. He put on his lost puppy face.

- "I thought you didn't need me."

That worked instantly. She felt terrible, all the ideas of betrayal, of trust, of comfort zones breached were lost when she realized that this man was on his knees, pleading her to need him. She did. Of course. She had for years, even though she had realized it almost too late. She covered his hands with hers, staring at her fingers, slowly moving against his skin. Her gesture sent such strong waves of desire through his body that he wondered if he would be able to stand another minute without making love to her.

- "Do you need me?"

Her voice was weak, uncertain. Because if she needed him, she was still unsure to see her feelings reciprocated. After all, he was an alpha-male with strong protective instinct, being submitted to need was unlikely in most cases. But she remembered the words of his grandfather: "He is big and strong, but he will need someone. Everyone needs someone." Did he need her? His heavy sigh was a first answer, it felt like a sigh of intense relief.

- "Yes."

So he was willing to put himself in as weak a position as she had put herself in? The thought made her smile. They were where she wanted them to be, both in the same place, with the same expectations. There would be not hierarchical contradictions, they were one and the same. Her smile made him hopeful, maybe it was time to act upon his feelings. It was not dangerous anymore. Not safe either, but... Yeah, he had to anyway, he could not contain himself.

- "You want me to show you?"

He had his playful smile on.

- "Show me? You can't _show_ need Booth, at least no in that cont..."

His lips interrupted her. Softly pushing her backward into the couch, his hands still on her knees, he kissed her with all the desperate need he had concealed until then. He could show her. Definitely. When she let her hands trail along his arms, up to his shoulders, then in his hair, he felt that she would not object, he was sort of good at proving things, anyway. Especially with kisses. He parted her legs with one knee, settling his weight onto the couch to be at eye level with her and let his hands explore her body. Her waist, the sides of her breasts, her neck. It was nothing like the kisses they had exchanged before. It screamed sex, desire, lust. He broke it before she could notice the effect this physical closeness had on him. Too late, he thought, as one of her thighs grazed his crotch. She smiled, panting.

- "It shows you want me. Not that you need me."

So he would have to be more persuasive? That was not an issue. He had been persuasive the whole evening, and with far less pleasing topics.

- "It's more than want... It's a situation when I can't say if I'll ever be able to live without you. That's need. You're like air, water or food."

- "Hence the hungry, breath-taking kiss, I suppose. Another metaphor, right?"

He loved the playful version of Bones. That version of her he had molded himself. She had been so right, he had been the architect of her inner self. Well, he preferred to think that he had helped to set her free from years of control, denial and fears. He smiled against her lips.

- "Exactly."

As he kissed her again, she grabbed his butt to settle him between her thighs. Just now he was unable to let his usually persistent chivalry take over his overwhelming need for her; he wanted her, bad and there was no thinking it over. He pushed his crotch against hers, and she moaned against his mouth. He realized it was Bones, moaning. It felt like a dream -or a recurrent fantasy- come true. If only they were in a more comfortable position. He feared the couch would not resist his pushing her backwards; there was a good chance they would end up upside down. But what would she think if he carried her to his bedroom? Or simply if he made her lie beneath him? Yeah, that was a stupid question, really. But that was the sign that his intrusive sense of chivalry would not leave him alone just yet. Then she broke the kiss, her eyes sparkling with desire. She would most likely not mind any of the options he had considered.

- "Did you plan on having sex with the fish lady tonight?"

He groaned. Bones, come on! Not now!

- "Bones... Don't bring that up when I'm kissing you!"

She smiled. What the hell was she trying to do? She licked her swollen lips, playing with his t-shirt.

- "It's just... I wouldn't want to be the cause of your abstinence."

That amused him as much as it startled him. If she knew... He had been abstinent for so long, he did not even remember when was the last time he had... Had he considered doing it with Klein? Sure, he was a guy. But then again, that did not mean he had any intention to actually do it. Did she really want to discuss that or? Damn. No. She was telling him she wanted to substitute herself to... Oh boy, he hated that thought. There was no substituting her to anyone; she was the one, for God's sakes. Plus his damned chivalrous self was kicking in too. Reminding him that they could not let themselves being carried away that fast. That despite years of longing, it was all too fast. He wanted to do it right. Not on his couch. Well, it was not so much the couch that the fact that it was their first time. Their tenth, hundredth time would be okay on the couch, or in any other location she would consider adequate. Not the first.

- "Bones, we shouldn't. It's too early for that."

She checked her watch.

- "It's already past midnight..."

He frowned. She was faking obliviousness to get what she wanted. That would have made him laugh if he had not been entirely unsure of his ability to control himself.

- "Don't get literal on me on purpose, Bones. You know what I mean."

He didn't want to? Well, his body certainly did not back up that statement. She could feel his arousal pulsating against her, he was certainly in agony right now. Was he trying to be over-protective again? She was 33 years old, not a virginal bride! He did not have to protect her from... From what by the way? A fantastic orgasm? Or did he fear that it would be sex for sex? So she would have to do what she mastered the less: expressing love and reassurance.

- "I thought we had come to terms with the fact that we loved each other... wanted each other... needed each other..."

She smiled at her newly discovered ability. She did not suck as much as she had thought when it came to expressing her feelings. Well, that certainly was much easier when she had proofs that her feelings were reciprocated. There was no fear of rejection when the man she loved was held captive between her legs, trying his best not to tear her clothes apart. She knew each of the kisses she gave him, seductively, furthered his agony; but she wanted him to give in. He would, undoubtedly if she continued to be that persuasive.

- "Yes, but it's too soon. I mean, barely 30 minutes ago we were fighting on the street, for God's sakes! We can't just fight and make up and... make out and, you know... make love."

She frowned, why not?

- "We did three fourth of these things already. Please?"

She was going to be the death of him. And why in hell was he trying to be reasonable again, everything was simpler five minutes before. He groaned, and got up, sitting beside her.

- "Don't plead for that!"

- "Why?"

- "Because it's too arousing."

She smiled, she had won. Determined to celebrate her victory, she took off her jacket and settled herself on his lap. Deliberately brushing the oh-so-painful spot with her own. At that moment she realized what she was doing, and with whom. The thought aroused her all the more.

- "Please?"

- "Dammit..."

So that was the sexy, playful Bones? How could it even be remotely possible to resist that? He gave up, seizing her skull with passion and kissing her. It all happened in a second, now she was lying beneath him, holding him prisoner of her embrace. But as soon as it started, he stopped. Damn the knight in a shiny armor deal. Well, there was no denying who he was.

- "Not on the couch. We can't do it on a couch."

- "Why not?"

Her hands pushing his body against her, sneaking into his jeans and cupping his buttocks were not helping him to form intelligible sentences.

- "It's too tacky. I want it to be all Marvin Gaye."

That would most likely make no sense to her, but that was the best he could do, seeing the circumstances. Did she know how unbearable it was to maintain pressure _there_? Of course she knew. Damn she knew how to torture him.

- "What's Marvin Gaye?"

- "It's a Motown singer who... Whatever. The thing is that..."

There was no more stepping back. They wanted each other anyway, and they were not kids anymore. They had waited enough. He did not even know why he was listing reasons to give in when he already had in reality. So he sighed, looking at that woman he was crazily in love with. She was smiling, teasing him. Yeah, there was no more stepping back.

- "... Okay, could you just let me set up the bedroom?"

With that he got up, with difficulty since she was reluctant to let him escape her grip. She frowned. Was that it? What did he mean by "setting up the bedroom"? He obviously saw she had no idea of what he was doing, so he kissed her disappointment away. Half scared to look too cheesy, half satisfied at the idea that he would lead the way tonight. Show her what it meant to him, to possess her finally.

- "Just wait here a second, 'k?"

- "Does it mean you want to install a romantic setting to give another dimension to our experience?"

He smiled. She was just hot. There was no other word to describe her factual, analytical vision right now. Well, his crazy arousal was helping him to idealize her usual mambo-jumbo, but he did not care. She was hot, period.

- "Yes."

Finally, she smiled back. Remembering that his thoughtfulness had always been a comfort over the years. Now it would be stimulating as well. He was amazing. She was in love with him, undoubtedly.

- "Alright. While you do that I will..."

She got up and started to remove her top, but he stopped her. No way he would not be the one removing her clothes. He had fantasized about that much too numerous times. He took her hands, caressing her palms.

- "No, I get to do that."

She leaned against him, her breasts grazing his chest purposely as she whispered in his ear, teasing; a devilish smile on.

- "Hurry up."

Her breath was hot against his skin, it took all his will power not to forget why he had chosen to delay things when he could simply take her there. He raced in his kitchen to try and find candles, where the hell did he keep them? He only had some he  
kept in case of black-out, nothing really romantic, but that would have to do. Music? Music... Holy shit, what could he put on? His actual Marvin Gaye CD was in his car. Plus, reflecting upon it, he did not really know if "Let's get in on" would put her in the right mood. He preferred something more neutral, less... challenging. Jazz? Coltrane? Good pick. Perfection would have been champagne and roses, but he had neither of these. Damn. Hot bath? How long would it take for the tub to actually fill up? Too long. They could do that later. But what if it seemed too awkward to just take her to the bedroom and... Yeah well, that would be as awkward to tell her that he had a bath ready for them. Holy shit, now he wanted to do it. A wet naked Bones was firmly implanted in his mind and that did not help his focus. Maybe he should ask her what she thought of it? Naah, that would be sissy. Why did everything need to be complicated? Because it had to be perfect, right. Because it had to say "I respect you" before it said "You make my pants go crazy". He decided finally that the bath would be romantic.

Ten minutes later he came back in the living room, and he smiled. She had fallen asleep. Of course. He took her in his arms to settle her in his bed. She instinctively wrapped her arms around him, settling her head against his shoulder. It was perfect. Simple, and perfect.  
When he started to undress her to get her under the sheets, he smiled at the irony of it all. Then she mumbled, struggling to sit up, her eyes closed.

- "M'ready..."

He chuckled. She was still determined to get what she wanted, even half asleep. Wasn't that so much like her?

- "You're exhausted. You're going to sleep."

- "Why-ou undress'm then?"

He was removing her jeans, trying not to think about the softness of her skin, the roundness of her thighs and the adorable color of her panties. He would never have thought she would favor such girlish undergarments. He had always thought of her as a black lace woman, but she was a white cotton one. That simple perfection dazzled him.

- "I'm undressing you because I don't like it when someone sleeps with street clothes in my bed."

And mostly because he had said he would do it and it seemed to be the only thing he would be able to do tonight. She smiled, her eyes still closed.

- "T's nice."

When she was comfortably settled in his bed, he started to undress himself to join her. He remembered the bathtub filled with hot water, the candles and he cursed himself silently. When he started for the bathroom, he saw her struggling to open her eyes.

- "Booth..."

- "Yeah?"

- "Still want to..."

Could she be more adorable? Arousing? Lovable? The lower region of his body was on fire. He had no idea how long it would take for it to calm down. But there was no way he would risk to have her fall asleep in the middle of what he had planned to be made of perfect perfection. And he was not bragging, merely stating a fact. How could it not be perfect between them? It would be, when they would be... both awake.

- "I see that. Later. Now sleeping together will be enough."

He frowned at his own words. And so did she. He had a hard time fighting a laugh, seeing her make that face with her eyes still tightly shut.

- "Yeah, now I'm the one being literal, Bones. Sleeping together as in sharing the same bed and trying not to snore. I'll be right back."

Once in the bathroom, and putting on his Pjs, Booth reflected upon the last hour with an intense feeling of exhaustion. He was relieved, happy, complete but it had been one hell of a fight. Not that he had expected things to be easy; if it had been it would have had no interest, in reality. If he had fallen in love with her, it was precisely because nothing was plain in her presence. Everything seemed to embrace a larger sense of truth, of depth. When he returned to his bedroom, he saw she had buried her face in his pillow, holding onto it tightly. If he had been cocky -and he was- he would have said she enjoyed his scent. Well, he knew she did anyway. He settled beside her in bed and she instantly let go of the pillow to hold onto him.

- "Smell good..."

See? He had not imagined things. He could return the compliment, her scent was the most intoxicating thing ever. Her shampoo... Well he had told her in the past. He kissed the top of her head, caressing her bare back. Nothing to silence his intense craving for her, but that would wait.

- "And I didn't even take a bath..."

She smiled in her sleep, even though she did not understand the real meaning of his words. She had come to his place to tell him she loved him. He had told her he loved her. That was simple. Enough to let herself fall in a contented sleep.

**The EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEND!!**

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Author's note (again): Oh and if you ask yourself if they do it during the night, yeah they do :p. I might or might not write it mmh...


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